Halloween Unspectacular 2: Do the Gasmask Shuffle
by E350
Summary: Thirty-one days, thirty-one shots, thirty-one eyesores; this is Halloween Unspectacular 2. Ratings, pairings and genres may vary wildly, read with discresion. Requests will be considered.
1. 01 10 11: In The Beginning

Doctor Who Reference FTW!

Well, not much to say here, so here we go...**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>0110/11 – In The Beginning**

It was a monster indecipherable by ordinary human minds.

Falling from the stars at a speed greater then any object ever recorded on the Earth and beyond, it broke through the atmosphere and began to fly low over the planet.

As it passed over cities, it caused madness and horror at its unfathomable awfulness. Men and women gouged out their eyes, stumbling into the streets and mumbling incoherent cries of terror at the sheer…_mess_ they had laid sight upon.

It soared over the ocean, and onto the east coast of the continent of Australia, over the port of Sydney, and there it unleashed its full horror.

The waters of Darling Harbour were turned to boiling tar, which washed over the city's streets. The Sydney Harbour Bridge melted, contorting as it sank into the ocean. The Centrepoint Tower snapped in two, the top half turning into a deadly spinning top, wrecking the middle of the city.

There was no notable effect to the train service.

The disgusting travesty rocked over the Southern Highlands, until it finally crashed into the front yard, where its master awaited.

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><p>I picked up the printed copy of <em>Halloween Spectacular<em>, recently mailed to my front doorstep (my printer was broken) and grinned.

"Awesome!" I exclaimed, "It finally arrived!"

Danny walked out of the house, squinting at the horizon.

"What's with all the smoke in the west?" he asked.

"Meh, who knows?" I shrugged, "So, it's October again."

"Sure is," nodded Danny.

There was a brief pause.

"I'd better get writing, I guess," I nodded.

I sniffed the copy in my hands.

"Why does this smell like Cthulhu?"

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><p>Me and Danny sat in the review room, decorated for Halloween (I'd but a pumpkin on the table – it was already starting to smell bad.)<p>

"It's that time of year again!" I grinned, "For the whole month of October, I'll be putting up one oneshot a day until the day of Halloween. Who knows – maybe this time I won't destroy the Earth!"

"Once again, we're also challenging you to write a oneshot every week until Halloween," added Danny, "Because that worked _so _well last time…"

"The prize – name it," I grinned, "I can write a oneshot, add an OC to one of my stories, whatever you want. This week's word is 'Roman.'"

"…Roman," deadpanned Danny.

"Yeah, I just flipped through a dictionary," I shrugged.

I turned to my keyboard.

"Now, let's get to work…"

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><p>Outside the window, Plankton groaned.<p>

"I don't even get a cameo in the intro this time?" he lamented, "Oh, _come on!_"


	2. 02 10 11: Happy Times with the Dead King

A little background for this one - this is set in an AU. In it, all cartoons live in a city called Cartoon City (you can find some descriptions on my devart.) Within this city is an apartment building called the Nickhouse, where most (but not all) Nicktoons reside. The Nickhouse has a private security force (who all wear and use WWII-early Cold War equipment for some reason). It's managed by the Manager (a crazed, slightly bipolar madman who's rarely ever there), David (the assistant manager who is sane but rather cynical) and Major George Simmonds (the head of security and basically the Straight Man of the setting.)

The main focus of the Nickhouse is Room 214, a three-room apartment which Timmy and Spongebob are sharing. Nickhouse focuses mainly on thier adventures.

The last character of note is Officer James Henrrys (mispelling deliberate), the head of the poilice station across the road. Henrrys has something of a vendetta against the Nickhouse, and his role ranges from antagonist to being slightly similar to Dib.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the first Nickhouse story to actually be seen on FFN. :D

Review replies;

**Gokiburi-Prince:** Awesome, glad to see you taking part! Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Thanks very much! Here's hoping you enjoy this one as well. :)

**OwlheadAthena:** Well, last year I think I said Cartoon X-Overs, but this time, I'll say any fandom you like. :D Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** What can I say? I dislike Sydney. :P I shall get to your request very soon. :D Thanks for reviewing!

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><p><strong>0210/11 – Happy Fun-times with the King of the Dead**

_Cartoon City Municipal Cemetery and Billiards Club (abandoned).  
>Late Evening, October 30<em>_th__._

There were many places Spongebob would have preferred to be right now. He'd prefer to be working. He'd prefer to be with Patrick in the Nut Bar at Goofy Goobers. He'd prefer to in his room, in the sanctuary of his bed.

Instead, he was following his roommate as he blindly wandered around an abandoned cemetery in search of Halloween decorations.

Timmy ran among the cracked and dusty gravestones, looking around the foggy, dark environment for something he could use.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, annoyed, "It's a cemetery! Where're all the skulls and cobwebs? There's not even a darn bone!"

"M-maybe we sh-should g-g-g-go then," trembled Spongebob, "I-I mean, there's nothing…"

"No," snapped Timmy, "No way I'm gonna let Chester and AJ win the Haunted Room contest! That mystery prize is _mine!_"

Spongebob stared for a second.

"I mean _ours_," Timmy added, quickly.

In the spirit of Halloween, the Nickhouse Management had declared a contest. Whoever had the best and scariest 'Haunted Room' would be awarded a 'mystery prize', and Timmy had become determined to win it. He had made a bet with Chester and AJ – whoever lost had to pay the other the vast sum of ten dollars.

Naturally, Timmy had proceeded to procrastinate until the last possible moment before setting out to decorate his room. And naturally, since he shared said room with Spongebob, his roommate had been press-ganged into helping.

Spongebob was just starting to wonder why all graveyards were foggy and covered in moss and dead trees when he tripped and fell flat on his face.

"_Eeww,_" he winced, rubbing moss off of his knees, "What did I step on…"

He looked at where he'd stepped. A small, pewter corked bottle lay innocently on the ground, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.

"Hey, Spongebob!" called Timmy, walking back up to him, "You find something?"

Spongebob picked up the bottle.

"Just this," he replied, "I thought we could use it…I didn't trip on it or anything…"

Timmy glanced at the bottle, somewhat unimpressed.

"Yeah, we could do something with that," he sighed, "Now come on; I think I saw a thigh-bone…"

As Timmy strode off towards a small crypt at the centre of the graveyard, Spongebob looked closely at the bottle.

"I should probably wipe the inside a bit," he decided, "Don't wanna get any germs from it or anything…"

He pulled off the cork.

There was a tremendous plume of purple smoke and a thunderous boom. Evil laughter filled the air. When the smoke cleared, a very tall, suited man was standing in front of the sponge. His suit was a fine black, and he had a spiky black hairdo and beard. Blood-red eyes glared at Spongebob, as a yellow-toothed grin spread across the being's face. He had a purple aura, and was several feet larger then a normal person.

"_You have freed me from my eternal prison!_" he boomed.

Spongebob blinked.

"Are you a genie?" he asked?

The being shook his head, and suddenly shrank down to the size of an average human. His teeth turned white, and his expression became rather affable. Save for his eyes, he looked rather ordinary in this form.

"Err, no," replied the being, "A genie grants wishes and lives in a lamp. I'm the Underworld King and I was imprisoned in a bottle. We clear on that?"

"Yes," nodded Spongebob.

"Great. Now, where were we?" quizzed the Underworld King, "Oh yeah."

He reassumed his large, unnatural form.

"_You fool! You have brought a terrible curse upon all you know and love!_" thundered the Underworld King, "_They shall suffer for what you have wrought!"_

"…but they didn't open the bottle," Spongebob pointed out.

"_So? Do I look like a fair person to you?_" boomed the Underworld King.

"Point taken."

"Spongebob! What the heck did you do?"

Timmy stormed up to the group, pointing at the Underworld King.

"What's he doing here? He could tell Chester and AJ all our plans!" snapped Timmy.

The Underworld King facepalmed

"Humans are still brick-dumb, I see," he mumbled, "Anyway, _you shall be the first to fall to my might, mortal!_"

He thrust his hands in Timmy's direction, and a cloud of black smoke covered the boy from head-to-toe. Spongebob watched, wide-eyed, as the cloud glowed many colours, predominately red and purple.

At last, the cloud of smoke cleared. Timmy was standing in the same place, eyes closed. He was now wearing a black trench-coat over his regular clothes.

"Oh my gosh, _he's wearing a coat!_" gasped Spongebob, horrified.

The Underworld King rolled his eyes.

"_Sic him, boy!_" he thundered, pointing at Spongebob.

Timmy opened his eyes, which were now blood-red, and bared fangs that had not been there before. It was clear the boy had been turned into a vampire. Much to Spongebob's misfortune, he was not of the weak sparkling kind.

Spongebob gave a high-pitched scream and ran for his life. He shut his eyes and kept going, and did not open them until he was far, far away from the cemetery. More to the point, he ran until he collided with a policeman.

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><p>"So let me get this straight," Major Simmonds sighed, pacing up and down his office, "You say you unleashed the King of the Underworld and he's turned Timmy into a vampire."<p>

"You've gotta do something!" gasped Spongebob, "He said he was going after all of my friends!"

Simmonds rolled his eyes, and leaned over to David, the assistant manager.

"I'm calling rubbish," the Major whispered.

"Definitely rubbish," nodded David.

Simmonds looked back at Spongebob, sitting in fetal position at the desk.

"Look," he sighed, "You're probably just seeing things in the shadows. Why don't you go back up to your room and get some rest. It'll all be better in the morning."

"But you've gotta believe me!" gasped Spongebob, "You guys trust me, don't you?"

Simmonds and David glanced at one another.

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><p>Spongebob walked into Room 214, dejected.<p>

"I can't believe they don't trust me," he lamented.

When no-one replied, he glanced at Timmy's fishbowl. It was empty. Obviously, the Underworld King had gone after them, too. Or they could be asleep, one or the other.

Spongebob sighed, and sat on his bed. He pulled the bottle out of his pocket and looked at it.

"Maybe there're some sort of instructions on the bottle?" he asked himself.

He picked at the pewter surface of the bottle…and it peeled, revealing ordinary plastic underneath.

"Huh?"

Spongebob peeled off the cover and looked at the other side of the paper.

_If you are reading this, you probably unleashed the Underworld King. Rather then berate you on your own stupidity, we have instead written instructions on how to deal with the King._

_To seal the King back up again, you will need to find the four treasures of the underworld. They are as follows…_

_THE CHALICE OF MIRTH hidden at the City Museum._

_THE KEY OF DESPAIR hidden on the top floor of the Twentieth Century Building._

_THE WHEEL OF LIFE hidden at the Reservoir in South Eisner._

_THE BOOK OF DEATH hidden at the City Library._

_Once they are assembled, go to the Big Crypt at the Cemetery and place them in the sarcophagus in the order we have listed the treasures. This should trap the Underworld King back in his bottle (unless you reopen it. If you do, well – you're a complete idiot, aren't you?)_

_© Demon Buster People, 1923._

_P.S.: Collect thirty of these papers and you could win a free automobile!_

Spongebob looked up, grinning.

"I can still fix this!" he exclaimed, "I'm going into town to get these things _right now!_"

He glanced out the window. It was very dark, and a storm had broken over the city.

"…tomorrow," gulped Spongebob.

He retreated into his bedroom and slept with the light on.

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><p>I've already got a bleeding multi-parter and we're only two days in. :|<p> 


	3. 03 10 11: The Wax Museum

Can anyone interpritate what this means? 'cos I can't. :| I was going to finish it but I ran out of time.

Review replies;

**MadnessAbe:** The rules to this are very, very loose - basically, I just put something I worked on that day up! :P As per the contest, you may use whatever fandom you like. :) Thanks for reading.

**OwlheadAthena:** ...and there's more where that one came from, too! :D Thanks for reviewing.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I had the most fun with the bottle, myself :P I'll see if I can do Freddy this year, but no promises I'm afraid. Thanks for the review!

**aslan333:** Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55: **Jabbing at Twilight is fun. I can certainly do that, don't worry. :D Thanks!

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><p><strong>0310/11 – The Wax Museum**

Tucker Foley was not an easily frightened individual (so he told himself). He was scared of hospitals, true, and he _might _have a phobia of vegetables, but he was not easily frightened.

That said, the prospect of sauntering into a dimly lit wax museum full of lifeless dummies didn't exactly fill him with confidence, class-trip or no class-trip.

"Come on," reassured Danny, "It'll be fine. Just think of it as one of those things Sam takes us to."

"That isn't reassuring," gulped Tucker.

"I heard that," hissed Sam.

The three were standing in the entrance hall, waiting for Mr. Lancer to finish talking with the decrepit old lady manning the register. For a moment, the lady passed Tucker a very disturbing grin – he winced.

"Alright, students," said Mr. Lancer, at last, "We're allowed in. Please stick to groups, don't get lost, _don't touch anything…_"

Nathan Lester looked at his shoes.

"…and meet back here in two hours," finished Mr. Lancer, "Remember to take notes, and _try_ to enjoy yourselves."

Whatever Mr. Lancer may have said next was lost as the students poured into the entrance to the hall. Tucker felt a shove against his back (and a guffaw from a certain Dash Baxter) and fell face first onto the ground.

Shaking his head, he climbed back to his feet, looking up at a sympathetic looking Danny. Everyone else had cleared off – even Sam seemed to have gone ahead.

"You okay, Tuck?" asked Danny.

"Fine," groaned Tucker, "Where'd Sam go?"

"She said she was going to the horror galley," replied Danny, a small smirk crossing his face, "You wanna go find her?"

"…we'll meet her when she's done," decided Tucker, quickly.

"That's what I was thinking," nodded Danny. Obviously, he had as much desire to go there as Tucker did.

They began to walk through the galleries, Danny carrying the map they'd been given. The museum was poorly lit, and its halls were long, narrow and winding – it was almost like an incredibly creepy maze.

Suddenly, Danny stopped, looking at a display to their left. Tucker turned his attention to what his friend was looking at.

The display was marked 'Ghosts in Nazi Germany'. It was set in a makeshift office in what looked to be a castle. A wax model of a bespectacled black-uniformed SS officer (labelled Heinrich Himmler) was pointing to a scared-looking woman, held by two SS troopers. A large man with a strange looking gun was aiming at the woman, a sadistic smile on his face. Behind them, large swastika banners were draped over the walls.

"'In the 1940s,'" Danny read from a board underneath the display, "'Adolf Hitler ordered his right hand man, Heinrich Himmler, to begin the harvesting of souls from captured Russian civilians. The belief was that the harvested souls could be turned into ghosts that would win the war for the Nazis.' And we think the Guys in White are nuts…"

He shook his head, disgusted. Tucker glanced at the map, and deducted that they were in the 'Ghost History' section.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," he mused.

"Yeah," nodded Danny, starting to walk away, "It kinda bugs me though. Why does a Wax Museum have a section on ghost history?"

"They're supposed to creep you out, I guess," mused Tucker, nervously.

The two emerged from the Ghost History section and entered an area that looked (and smelt) like the lower decks of an old sailing ship. There were no models in here.

"Geez," sniffed Danny, "This place reeks."

"Hey, Danny!"

Danny and Tucker looked over to the other end of the room. Valerie and Star had entered, the latter holding her nose at the smell.

"You seen Paulina?" asked Valerie, "Star lost her in one of the galleries."

"Nope, haven't seen her," shrugged Danny, "Maybe she's…"

All of a sudden, the lights shorted out. For a few seconds, there was what could only be described as a deafening silence.

Then red lights lit up the room from the floor.

Wax models had appeared on both sides. A smartly dressed man in a blue uniform and powered wig was cornered against the wall by a crazed looking sailor with a harpoon. Behind them, a red-coated soldier lay on the ground, decapitated – disturbingly realistic blood flowed from his neck as two sailors above him held pikes into his back. Around them, models of sailors and soldiers were fighting and killing each other in a variety of nasty ways.

Star screamed and shut her eyes, but nothing more happened.

"It's-it's probably just a display," gulped Valerie, before laughing nervously, "Pretty good, ain't it?"

"Why's everything so morbid in here?" asked Tucker, glancing worriedly at the models.

"Dude," sighed Danny, "It's a wax museum. I think it's supposed to be like that."

"Let's keep going," gulped Star, "I don't like it in here."

The group continued onwards, out of the ship display and down a flight of stairs into another gallery.

This gallery stank even more then the other one. It was circular, and was looking down on a reconstruction of a gladiator coliseum. Cheering crowds of Roman citizens crowded the arena as ten gladiators fought one another. They fought over blood-covered sand and the bodies of the dead. On the sidelines were several Roman soldiers, warily standing guard.

"Nice," deadpanned Danny.

"You've gotta wonder where they get these dummies," mused Valerie, "Do they buy in bulk or do they just have a really good sculptor?"

_Or maybe they kill people,_ Tucker thought, darkly.

"Hey, Fenturd!"

Danny let out a heavy sigh as the lumbering form of Dash Baxter sauntered towards them.

"Kwan's ditched me, so I don't got anyone to do my note-taking for me," he snapped, "You're volunteering, Fentoni!"

He slammed a wad of notepaper into Danny's arms.

"Now, come on!" he snapped, "We're going to the pit of monsters!"

_Oh, wonderful._

Tucker tried to look brave as he followed Dash and the group further into the dark corridors. At last, they reached what looked like a mine tunnel. The sign above it read 'To the Pit. No Exit.'

Confidently, Dash led the group inside. The tunnel was even more poorly lit then the rest of the museum – it was almost pitch black.

After what seemed like an age, the group emerged in a large dark chamber. Tucker's jaw dropped.

Before them was a gigantic pile of bones reaching up to the high roof of the chamber. In parts of the pile, the bones were melded into thrones, upon which a wax model of a person was sat. Each of the thrones was labelled.

Hoarsely, Danny began to read from a board.

"The lowest row of monsters is made of the wrathful…"

The first and lowest row of thrones consisted of four; Tamerlane – Ivan the Terrible – Qui Shi Huang – Jacob 'Monster' Smith.

"The second row is made of the greedy…"

The second row, higher up, consisted of three; Leopold II of Belgium – Louis XIV – Cecil Rhodes.

"The third is made of the murderers…"

The second highest row had just two; Stalin and Caligula.

"…and the top, the greatest monster of all…oh my god…"

On the highest throne, right at the top of the pile, was Hitler.

"Dude, this is sick," gasped Dash.

"It's like some sort of shrine to evil," whispered Valerie, disgusted.

"I'm getting out of here," shuddered Star, turning to leave.

"Count me out, too," agreed Tucker, "This place is just…"

"Yeah," nodded Dash, his face white, "We'll wait outside."

The group walked quickly back down the tunnel. As they did so, they began to hear strange groaning noises.

That walk quickly turned into a run.

The group raced back down the corridors. As they ran past the coliseum, Tucker swore that the models were looking at him.

They raced past the ship. Tucker noticed that the fight was over, and the models were standing straight, staring at passers-by. _But how had they moved?_

They raced past the castle. Himmler and the soldiers were standing on the edge of the exhibit, their arms raised in salute. There was no sign of the girl.

At last, they reached the exit, and barrelled straight into the entrance hall, colliding with Mr. Lancer.

"_Illustration in Action_, Mr. Fenton! What on Earth is going on?" demanded the teacher.

"This place is messed up, man!" cried Dash.

"We have to leave, now!" added Star, equally panicked.

Mr. Lancer tilted his head, confused.

"And how, pray tell, is it messed up?" he asked.

"They've got a _freaking shrine_ to _Hitler!_" snapped Tucker, "And those models are doing some weird things, this…"

"What's going on?"

Sam walked out of the museum, looking confused at the group's actions.

"Sam!" gasped Danny, "Thank god you're okay! We've gotta get outta here, this place is completely screwed up!"

"No it isn't," replied Sam, shaking her head, "This place is the best thing that ever happened to me."

She strode closer to the group.

Tucker's heart jumped. Sam's skin was extremely pale and clammy looking – and rather shiny, too. Her eyes refused to move or blink, and her hair looked far too flat to be natural.

"You're not Sam," growled Danny.

"Oh, but I am," replied Sam, calmly, "I'm just a little bit…different."

She crossed her arms and started to laugh.

And then Tucker ran.

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><p>NO SAM YOU ARE THE DEMONS<p> 


	4. 04 10 11: The Fiddley Thing Returns

It had to come back, didn't it?

Review replies;

**Gokiburi-Prince:** Yep, same as last time. :) Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** I've never been in a wax museum either, but I'm glad you liked it. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** It was just to add to the uneasiness of the museum, no intention to offend. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I might continue this, we'll see. Thanks very much!

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><p><strong>0410/11 – The Fiddley Thing Returns**

Spongebob walked into the house, holding an invitation in his hand. A Mr. I. Sano had invited him to a birthday party, and while it did seem suspicious, Spongebob liked birthday parties, and therefore had turned up anyway.

He walked into the living room, but found no-one there (save for the sleeping form of Spoony on the couch.) Confused, he decided to lead himself into the basement – maybe the party was downstairs.

He opened the basement door.

Dr. Insano was standing at the bottom of the stairs, covered in multi-coloured splatters. The basement was covered in dust and debris – the corner was on fire.

"…um…this isn't what it looks like?" gulped Insano.

"Oh, hey Dr. Insano!" greeted Spongebob, "You know where the party is?"

"…there isn't one," replied Insano, somewhat sheepishly, "I just needed guinea pigs."

"Oh…why's your basement on fire?" asked Spongebob.

"Look, can we go over to your squirrel friend's place?" asked Insano, "I have a few things I need to fix up…"

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><p>Spongebob, Insano and Sandy were sitting at the table at the Treedome. Insano was carrying a duffel bag.<p>

"Ok, what happened?" asked Sandy.

"Well, I was making upgrades to the Fiddley Thing…" began Insano.

Sandy groaned.

"…and I called over some people to test it on," continued Insano, "Long story short, I have no idea how to …"

"Let's start at the beginning," sighed Sandy, "What happened with your first experiment?"

Insano reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a small cube.

"You like it?" grinned Insano, "I ripped off that fudge-headed kid!"

"Get on with it," snapped Sandy.

Insano put his hand into the cube.

He pulled out a panda cub.

"Aww, it's so cute," grinned Spongebob.

"That's the District Attorney," replied Insano.

"Oh."

Insano carried on, pulling other animals and items out of the cube.

"That's Fred the Fish," [a koala], "That's Spencer D. Bum," [a cardboard box], "That's Barney Gumble," [a lemur], "And that's Ralph Wiggum," he finished, pulling out a blunt pencil.

"So, you want me to fix 'em up?" asked Sandy.

"No, of course not," replied Insano, "I want you to reset the Fiddley Thing. I liked the old setting better. It had more robots."

"Give it here," sighed Sandy.

She took the Fiddley Thing and fiddled with it for a few seconds.

"Dagnabbit, this thing's a time bomb," she cursed, "One wrong button and you could destroy the fabric of reality!"

"Yeah, I know," grinned Insano, "Pretty cool, huh?"

"I can't make hide nor hair of this, either," added Sandy, "You spelt all the instructions wrong."

"Hey!" exclaimed Insano, "My spelling is perfect! Give that back, I'll go to fudge-head instead…"

He made a grab for the Fiddley Thing.

Sandy's finger slipped on a button as he did so.

There was a great flash of white.

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><p>Sandy sat on her couch, wearing her purple formal dress. Next to her sat Spongebob, wearing his normal clothing. Both of them blinking, and the latter rubbed his eyes.<p>

"What did he do?" demanded Sandy, looking around the room. Apart from Sandy's attire and Spongebob's lack of an air helmet, it looked like her living room.

"Everything looks okay to me," mused Spongebob, "Let's go check outside."

The two strode up to the window.

"Oh my _gosh_," groaned Sandy.

Behind her, she heard the door open, and Insano strode into the room.

"For the record," he stated, "Not my fault."

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><p>I deliberately left this ending (and what the Fiddley Thing did) open because I want to see what you can come up with! :D<p> 


	5. 05 10 11: The Peddler

I'll admit it, the setting here is basically an excuse to listen to bluegrass while writing. :P

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Fiddling with the Fiddley Thing produces reason to fiddle. Or something. Thanks for reading!

**Third Kind:** D: I'm not _that_ cruel! It's okay about not reviewing, by the way, I understand. Thanks for reviewing.

**The Person with No Name:** Huzzah! And this won't be the last time we see it, either. I love that thing. :P Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Interesting suggestions. I like the Picasso idea. :) Thanks very much!

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><p><strong>0510/11 – The Peddler**

The old rail station in the town had seen better days.

The paint on its wooden walls was peeled and worn. The windows were largely smashed, and the platform was overgrown. A lone watchman sat on a rocking chair outside the long closed and boarded up ticket office, a worn old repeater in his hands and a large brimmed hat over his eyes.

At the end of the short platform was a small shack. Once the home of the station master (the last one had died decades ago), it was now occupied by what the few who visited the station called a snake-oil peddler.

No trains had stopped here officially since the Depression. But they still used the line to navigate the vast prairie, and every now and then they'd halt if there were problems up the line.

This was one such occasion. The small railcar which serviced the plain was rolling into the station, its tired old brakes squealing on the rusty steel rails. Slowly, it came to a halt before the watchman, who barely acknowledged its presence.

Sam blinked, and sat up. She'd fallen asleep on the train, and was only just aware that it had stopped. Climbing to her feet and glancing about the near-empty car, she noticed the conductor look at his watch, shake his head, and proceed to pull out a calendar.

It looked like they weren't going anywhere for a while.

Deciding to stretch her legs, Sam got up and headed for the door.

"How long are we gonna be here?" she asked the conductor, before opening the door.

The conductor just shrugged, and grabbed a newspaper.

Sam climbed down the steps and onto the platform. It was late afternoon, just before evening – the sun was halfway through its descent. The seemingly infinite expanse of the plains shone a golden hue in the sunlight. It was warm, but not unbearably so – in fact, it was nigh perfect.

Sam walked down the platform to the old shack at the platform's end. A small metal sign was bolted on the door.

T. HUBERT GENERAL GOODS AND SERVICES.  
>I ASSURE YOU WE ARE OPEN.<p>

"Got nothing better to do," shrugged Sam, and she stepped into the shack.

The inside of the shack was hot. It was lined with makeshift shelves, adorned with a variety of bizarre looking items and artefacts. A beared, wrinkled old man sat on a chair, a small pot on the floor next to him.

"Well, lookie here!" grinned the old man (he had very few teeth left), "We got ourselves a customer! How can I do you business, missy?"

"First of all, I'm not 'missy'," snapped Sam, "And second, I'm just browsing."

"Well, you tell me if you find anything you like, little lady," nodded the peddler, crossing his arms.

Sam rolled her eyes, and looked over the shelves.

The variety of objects was odd, to say the least. Some of them were totally bizarre. Who on earth wanted the poison of a king brown snake? Or a box of piranha teeth? And there was a bottle of snake oil, of course.

Sam glanced down.

On the second row of stuff was a black, Venetian style mask. It was of the kind that did not cover the mouth, just the eyes and nose (this style was called the Columbina). Sam felt the wax mask, and grinned. She was buying this, no doubt about it.

"How much…" she began, picking up the mask.

"Thirty bucks," replied the man.

"What? But that's…" Sam began.

"A damn sight cheaper then you'd get it in _Venezia_, little lady," replied the man, mispronouncing the Italian word, "Thirty bucks, take it or leave it."

Sam grumbled as she took out her wallet. She pulled out three ten dollar notes and handed them to the man, who nonchalantly threw them in the pot.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"No," replied Sam, "See you."

She walked out of the shack and back onto the railcar (which still showed no signs of moving.) Sitting back in her seat, she looked over the mask she'd bought.

"Better check if it fits," she thought aloud.

She attached the mask to her face.

* * *

><p>Arnold looked up from the book he was reading when he heard an agonised yell.<p>

The girl a few seats in front of him (Sam, wasn't it?) had fallen off her seat and was rolling on the floor, screaming in agony.

He jumped off his seat and ran up to her, kneeling over her.

"What's wrong, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to work out what was happening.

"_The mask!_" screamed Sam, "_It's…burning!_"

"Get the god-damn mask off!" ordered the conductor, "I'm gonna get the watchman!"

Arnold nodded, and began to pry at the mask, only to recoil in pain. The wax was literally _melting_ into Sam's flesh, and it was too hot to touch.

"Hold on! I can get it!"

Another individual, a robot who had been close to the front of the train (Arnold had read of her in the papers – Jenny, wasn't it?) skidded over to Sam and began to pull at the mask with her metal fingers. The more she pulled, the louder Sam yelled. After several seconds of little success, Jenny let go.

A few seconds later, Sam stopped screaming, and fell limply to the floor.

"I-is she d-dead?" quizzed Jenny, anxiously.

Then Sam's eyes turned blood red.

She reached her hand out and grabbed Arnold by the neck, lifting him up. Arnold choked and spluttered as Sam changed quickly into a hideous, fleshy demon, with long limbs and fingers and an uncomfortably thin body. The mask remained, just above a huge, fanged mouth.

The demon roared an animalistic roar, and threw Arnold against the wall.

Dazed, the boy looked up as the creature turned towards Jenny, preparing to attack. Nervously, the robot had produced some kind of rocket launcher, but seemed hesitant to fire at the former human.

Then there was a loud bang.

The demon slunk to its knees and then fell face first to the floor. Greenish-purple blood flowed from its head.

The watchman was standing at the end of the railcar, the smoking repeater in his hands.

"God damn it, I hate that peddler," he snapped, and stormed off the train, leaving it in an eerie silence.

* * *

><p>The minute the train arrived at its destination, the conductor wasted no time in selling the press the story what had happened. After all, he made a meagre pay check, what harm could come of it?<p>

The answer was that Sam Manson was the daughter of one of the richest couples in the United States. After the story of what happened at that station got out, Jeremy and Pamela Manson were out for blood. The watchman was tracked down, arrested and sent to court.

The defence could afford only himself – the prosecution had the best lawyers money could buy. The watchman's story was far from reputable in the eyes of the law – the Mansons had him as a concrete suspect. It was a garden variety open-and-shut case, and it ended with the chair.

The rail company ran into financial difficulties after the Manson case, and closed down.

No trains pass that station anymore. It stands alone in the vast prairie. The paint of the old wooden building peels. Overgrowth gathers on the tracks and the platform. The windows are mostly smashed – those that aren't are covered in dust and grime. The ticket office is boarded up, and the rails have rusted over. An abandoned rocking chair sits in front of the door, waiting for an owner that is never coming back.

At the end of the old platform stands an old shack, belonging to the long dead station master. Inside it, an old peddler still runs his snake-oil business, selling his dangerous wares to any travellers who may pass by.

Next to him is a small pot, which he uses to gather his profits. Three dusty ten dollar notes lay atop the pile. Sometimes, the old peddler will look at these notes, and he will chuckle to himself, reminding himself of an old, ill-gotten sale.

He has many of these tales, and doubtless, he shall have many more.

* * *

><p>Venitian masks scare me. :|<p> 


	6. 06 10 11: Potions

I invented a new game! :P Unfortuantely, we can never play it, unless you have any magical potions.

Review replies;

**OwlheadAthena:** ...I may never sleep again. D: Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Creep is the fuel that keeps me going. That, and bad comedy. :| Thanks for reviewing!

**Third Kind:** Mission Accomplished! *thumbs up* Thanks for the review.

**aslan333:** Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** 'Twas what I was going for. Also, I based the peddler on the creepy old men who try to sell 'genuine' East German kit on the streetside in Berlin. Anyway, thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>0610/11 – Potions**

_The potions used to make this fanfiction, though unnamed in the text, were sourced from Harry Potter Wiki and the Harry Potter Lexicon. So…yeah. Just thought you'd want to know._

Jimmy sat at the head of the table, arms crossed and grinning. The table had six occupants – he, Danny, Timmy, Spongebob, Sandy and Sheen.

"Okay, so what's the game?" asked Danny, looking warily at the vials in the middle of the table.

""It's sort of an inverse Russian Roulette," replied Jimmy, "I've got six vials. Five of them are potions, one of them is dyed water. We don't know which one is which – the winner is the one who picks the water."

"…and we're playing it because?" asked Timmy.

"Meh, I'm bored," shrugged Jimmy, "We'll go clockwise – who wants to go first?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I do!" grinned Sheen.

He grabbed a large vial close to him and began to gulp it down.

"Well, someone's jumpin' the gun," noted Sandy, rolling her eyes.

Sheen put down the emptied vial, burped loudly…and began to fade. In seconds, he had disappeared from sight…save for his clothes, which remained visible.

"Cool!" Sheen cried, his disembodied sleeves raising up, "I've gained the awesome power of invisibility!"

"Sheen, we can still see your clothes," reminded Danny.

"Oh," noted Sheen, "Hold on, I can fix that…"

"No," Danny warned, shaking his head, "Please…please don't."

Sheen's sleeves crossed over his shirt, annoyed.

"Right," nodded Timmy, "My turn!"

He grabbed a vial and drank it in one swig.

Dropped it, he wiped his mouth and waited.

"Hey, I think I got the…"

Then Timmy's body began to shrink. Before long, he was about a foot tall, and standing tip-toe on his chair to been seen.

"…darn you, Jimmy," he snapped in an amusingly high-pitch, "Darn you."

"Charming," nodded Jimmy, taking a vial, "I'm glad you're having fun."

He sipped his vial, and put it down.

"Hmm," he mused, "Doesn't _taste_ like water…then again, that could be the dye…"

He raised an eyebrow, and began to rap his fingers on the table. The rapping got faster, and he began to fidget in his chair.

"Dagnabbit, who cares!" exclaimed Jimmy, standing up, "I got an urge to invent and I'm going down to do it! See you later, guys!"

He pushed his chair aside and ran outside for the clubhouse, presumably headed for the lab.

"I don't think he's coming back," noted Timmy.

"…I'm guessin' that weren't water," mused Sandy.

"What gave it away?" deadpanned Danny.

"Well, it's my turn!" grinned Spongebob, optimistically.

He picked a vial and drank it quickly. He held it for a moment, looking it over.

"Hmm," he mused, "Kinda tastes salty. Maybe it's salt water?"

"I don't Jimmy would make us drink salt water," replied Danny.

"I _did _nearly burn down his lab last week," mused Sheen.

There was a brief pause.

"Okay, wouldn't put it past him," gulped Danny.

"Well, doesn't look like this potion did anything," decided Spongebob, putting down the vial.

The table underneath split, the vial smashed right through and shattered on the floor.

Spongebob stared for a moment.

"Okay, that _wasn't _salt water," he noted, "How're we gonna fix this?"

"Meh, we'll just tell Mrs. Neutron it was Jimmy," shrugged Timmy.

"Alright, my turn," nodded Sandy.

She grabbed a vial and drank it.

"Nah, this definitely don't taste like water," she noted, "Tastes a bit like…"

There was a popping noise, and all of a sudden, a six inch, winged and very bemused looking squirrel with fairy wings was floating above her chair.

"Ha, you're smaller then me," shot Timmy.

"Oh, for the love of…" sighed Sandy, face-palming.

Danny grinned, and downed the last vial. He gave a satisfied burp, waited a few seconds, and put the vial down when nothing happened.

"Well, I win!" he grinned, "Good game! How long do these potions last, anyway?"

"A couple 'a hours, I think," replied Sandy, "Better hang around 'till they wear off."

"Hey, where'd Sheen go?" asked Spongebob, looking at his empty chair.

"I'm right here," came the reply, "I'm just _invisible!_"

Danny buried his head in his hands.

* * *

><p>You know, I'd like to play this game. It sounds kind of fun. :)<p> 


	7. 07 10 11: Cairo to the Cape

Yay, journals! :D

EDIT: Dear self. When you change a character, please remember to go back and fix up any mentions of him. :|

Review replies;

**aslan333:** Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** I thought I'd let him off, because of all the crap I put him through last year. :| Also, Spongebob got a strength potion. Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Jimmy's potion was an energy potion. :] Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>0710/11 – From Cairo to the Cape**

The continent of Africa was the last to be explored and colonised by Europeans.

From the eighteen-seventies to the outbreak of the First World War, the colonial empires of Great Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, Portugal, Spain and Italy fell upon the continent like hungry wolves. By 1914, only Abyssinia, modern day Ethiopia, was free of the control of the prestige hungry demagogues of the European governments.

The continent was involved in the great European war of 1914-18, with fighting between the British and Ottoman Empires in the north and the campaigns of Von-Lettow Vorbeck in the south. The Second World War was even worse (Abyssinia having been eaten by the Italians in 1936).

After the war and the Suez Crisis of 1956, the colonial empires at last abandoned Africa. The results of the withdrawal were mixed, to say the least. Civil war, famine and racism became a sad fact of post-colonial society in many countries.

During this time, many have entered into the heart of the continent, intent on mapping the land, discovering the wildlife, or simply trying to commit a feat of endurance. Many have never returned – nameless victims of unforgiving nature.

Who would be surprised, or suspicious, if anyone new vanished in this harsh environment?

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>15__th__ May, 2015_

We left Cairo this morning, headed south to Cape Town in South Africa – that's a distance of four and a half thousand miles. This is going to be a fascinating experience…but a tough one.

There are five of us in the party; myself (naturally, I planned this whole thing), Eliza Thornberry (our guide and daughter of the nature host Nigel Thornberry), AJ Ibrehim, Jazz Fenton (who's doing some sort of psychiatric thing) and our security guy, some guy called Eugene Krabs.

I have complete confidence that we'll succeed in our mission.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>20__th__ May, 2015_

We reached Lake Nasser this afternoon, and things are going well thus far. We hugged the banks of the Nile until we reached Aswan, and bought more provisions for the next leg – further down river and then away, towards Khartoum, in Sudan.

It's hard to believe this is the easy part.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Jasmine Fenton<br>24__th__ May, 2015_

We reached Khartoum today, and bought up more supplies. So far, the group's been in pretty good spirits – there's no sign of any psychological strain or anything. Eugene and Eliza have been at odds – the latter is pretty vehemently opposed to killing animals encountered on the way, but Eugene says that eventually, we'll need to so we can feed ourselves.

We're leaving down the White Nile towards Juba in South Sudan – at our pace, we'll be there in about a week.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of AJ Ibrehim<br>31__st__ May, 2015_

I don't like this. It's been a week, and we're still nowhere near Juba. There're plains as far as the eye can see, it's all green at the moment, but something seems…wrong. Eliza and Krabs still haven't reconciled their argument at Khartoum – in fact, it's gotten so bad that they won't even speak to each other.

The going's been slower lately. Krabs keeps hanging behind, and we have to wait for him. If he keeps this up, we're going to run way behind schedule.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>2__nd__ June, 2015_

This isn't how I envisioned this at all. We were supposed to be well out of Juba by now, heading to Lake Victoria, but instead, we've only just gotten here. This disagreement between Eliza and Krabs is getting way out of hand – we need to sort out this issue if we don't want this team to collapse.

I don't want to go between them, though. We'll wait until we get to Kampala – if they're still going then, we'll have to talk.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Jasmine Fenton<br>6__th__ June, 2015_

Eugene's gone. All we found in his tent was his log. I don't know what he's planning on doing in the middle of Uganda all by himself, but I guess he had his reasons.

We're in Kampala, preparing to row across to the Mwanza side of Lake Victoria (the source of the White Nile). Once we're across, we're heading to Mbeya in southern Tanzania.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>8__th__ June, 2015_

The team's spooked, and I can't really blame them. On the second day of rowing (we slept in the boats), we ran into a pretty big storm, and it was a fight to keep the boat afloat. We straightened her out, but must've lost our bearings, because we seem to have missed Mwanza. (I know, I missed a town, I'm an idiot, blah blah blah.)

We'll head south anyway. Can't be too hard to regain our bearings.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of AJ Ibrehim<br>13__th__ June, 2015_

Something is seriously wrong. We should be in Mbeya, but all I can see is mountains. It's cold – we didn't bring provisions for this cold. Jimmy's still sure that we've just lost our bearings, but I'm not so sure. Something evil's at work here.

I'm sure of it.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>14__th__ June, 2015_

AJ's being stupid. There's no reason to suspect that my leadership abilities are substandard.

I did hear voices in the brush last night, but it's probably just stress. Nothing to worry about.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Jasmine Fenton<br>15__th__ June, 2015_

Tensions are high. AJ's openly questioning Jimmy's leadership, and Jimmy doesn't even seem to know where we are. He just says that we'll get our bearings eventually.

Jimmy thinks we've found Victoria Falls, but it looks _off_ – AJ and Eliza say it isn't, and it's them against Jimmy – two versus one. Perhaps our leader's fallen into denial.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>16__th__ June, 2015_

AJ thinks i'm not a geneus. Well, i am – more so then he will ever be! Sure were a LITTTLE bit lost but i can find our way, we'll be in cape town before he knows it. And then i will shove his words into his little bald head.

so there.

I thought i could see eyes in the brush today but we all know thats crazy. so I didnt bother telling anyone.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of AJ Ibrehim<br>27__th__ June, 2015_

I heard Jimmy talking in his sleep last night. Something about voices and eyes watching him wherever he goes, and how he's not lost at all, he's following them.

We're running out of provisions, and I'm pretty sure I've got the beginnings of some sort of disease (malaria?). If we're going to survive, Jimmy needs to go. He's a danger to us all. Nobody will know, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of James Isaac Neutron<br>27__th__ June, 2015_

I can here them. Their inn my head talking and laughing and i cant shut them up i cant shut them up i cant shut them up I CANT SHUT THEM UP I CANT SHUT THEM UP I CANT SHUT THEM UP I CANT

GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OU

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Jasmine Fenton<br>28__th__ June, 2015_

AJ killed Jimmy.

He got out a machete in the night and went to work. Next morning, the tent's covered in blood, and AJ's proclaiming himself leader. He's snapped – the combination of loneliness, that fact that we're lost and what seems to be the onset of a tropical illness has sent him over the edge.

I'm not well. I've got sores all over my body, and I feel weak in all my joints. If we don't find help soon, we'll all be dead.

So Eliza and I have agreed to go along with AJ until we do. It's the only way.

Speaking of Eliza, she's the only one who still seems to have a grip of this situation. Maybe she's used to it.

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Jasmine Fenton<br>6__th__ July, 2015_

were in the middle of some sort of grassland i know the name of this its sava sav something or another and my hed hurts and my joints hurt and i feel really weak and I think im going to die i know i want to see somebody but i cant remember his name i think it started with a d and im feeling really faint

ajs dead he died a while back he walked off i think hes dead elizas still here and shes pretty healthy

i think im going to go to sleep now

* * *

><p><em>Diary of AJ Ibrehim<br>7__th__ July 2015_

You know, I think I worked out what's happened here.

I'm surprised I didn't work it out sooner.

She was always the most well adjusted, the experience one. Who else could it have been?

I don't know how, bu-

_The remainder of the page is ripped beyond recognition. It is covered in blood._

* * *

><p><em>Diary of Eugene H. Krabs<br>13__th__ July, 2015_

I waited for her in a back alley in Cape Town. She arrived when expected.

"I don't like doing this," she says.

"Neither does I, lass," I reply, "But if we wanna be free, we got to do it. So, they're all gone?"

"Yeah," she replies, "All of 'em." She shakes her head. "All of 'em."

"Good," I nod, "If we keep this up, then one day…maybe…she'll finally be satisfied."

I looked at the wall, at the graffiti image of the High Priestess Vicky, and deep down; I hoped she'd choke on her offering.

* * *

><p>Well, a week has passed (well, almost, anyway), it's time for another word for the contest!<p>

This one, in the true spirit of Fiddleyness; **Reality**.


	8. 08 10 11: Deadly Mistakes

This was Cartoonatic's request because she won the contest last year. In other words, this is her fault, not mine.

Seriously, though, the subject matter here is pretty wrong, and while it crosses the line twice for me, it may not for others. Read with discresion.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Thanks! (although to be fair, some of them probably _are _legitimate grammar mistakes. :P)

**aslan333:** Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Really sorry about that. It was originally Dib, but I forgot. Sorry again. Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>Deadly Mistakes<strong>

"No use," sighed Ember, pushing on the door one more time, "Dipstick locked the door. _And _he put up a ghost shield."

She, Squidward, Sandy and Timmy had been locked in the review room, which had been cleared of all furnishings save for a laptop with TV Tropes on it.

"Looks like they only way we're getting outta here is by reading this," mused Timmy, looking at the laptop, "What exactly is it, anyway?"

_**Role Play: Deadly Mistakes**_

_Have you ever messed with one of those silly 12-character memes and gotten a "what if character X got character Y pregnant?" question, and then wondered what would have happened if that child was actually born?_

_The intrepid weirdos of a certain forum did._

"…this is gonna suck," groaned Squidward.

"Well, it can't be that bad," shrugged Sandy, "I mean, he's a bit weird, but it's not like he's _depraved_ or anything…"

The faint sound of maniacal laughter could be heard outside.

_Action Girl: Piper, Jezebel, Ellen, Brynja, Cass and Susan._

"Heh, there's a lot of them, ain't there?" mused Sandy.

_Attention Whore: _**_Siren_**_._

"Why's she bolded?" asked Squidward.

"Hey, did someone turn down the AC?" asked Timmy, "It seems like it just got colder…"

_Awesome Mc Cool Name: _**_Danger_**_ Makenshi. Rather ironic, considering that he's also a Shrinking Violet._

"Meh," shrugged Timmy, "It's not as cool as Max Power…"

_Thaddeus Blackstone Granger is a pretty cool name, too._

"Okay, yeah, _that_ name is awesome," agreed Timmy.

_Berserk Button: Rowan hates being called a homosexual. Also, may God help you if you drink the last of his booze._

"So he's gay Bender or something?" mused Ember, tilting her head.

_Big What: Quite a few of the group's reactions to finding out that Kurgan Junior was technically Bernie's step-sister._

"The guy named Kurgan Junior's a girl?" quizzed Squidward.

"Her school-life would've been pretty terrible," said Ember.

_Cute Mute: Inochitori, when she's not stabbing people._

"…that's nice," gulped Sandy, recoiling a little.

_Disproportionate Retribution: After Wilson randomly threw up in his house Thaddeus threatened to set him on fire._

"Good idea!" said Squidward, brightly, "Let's do that to Spongebob!"

Sandy slapped him in the back of the head.

_Disappeared Dad: Happened with Kurgan Junior, Newt, Salvation, Xavier, Kyle, Dorian, Augustin, Zetta, Fawn and Master II._

"Does anyone in this RP actually _have_ a dad?" quizzed Ember.

_Everything's Nuttier with Half-Squirrels: Chester gets it from both of his parents; a squirrel and a less-than-sane human, both of which are mad scientists in love._

Everyone looked at Sandy.

"I'm not a mad scientist," she snapped.

They continued to stare.

"…most of the time."

_Piper; especially since she takes after her father- that is, slightly deranged. (Which is odd considering that her father's the human.)_

Everyone continued to look at Sandy. She buried her head in her hands.

_Fantastic Racism: Mathew __does not like squirrels__. At __all__._

"Heh, they have squirrel racists now," mused Ember.

"Meh," shrugged Sandy.

_Homosexual Reproduction: Delta, Cass and Inochitori Have Two Mommies (well __had__, in Ino's case), Augustin, Kyle and Rowan Have Two Daddies, the case behind Grover is, uh, slightly questionable..._

"It's not impressive until you've gone for three parents," deadpanned Timmy.

"_Timmy!_" gasped Sandy.

"What, I have access to the internet," shrugged Timmy, "What, you thought I was innocent or something?"

_Running Gag: "Deformed Flipper Person", "Deformed Flipper Babies", and all it's other variations. Often coupled with I'm Going to Hell for This._

"Yes, you are," sighed Squidward, "Can I go now?"

"Let's have a look at the characters page," mused Sandy, "I wanna know who these people are…"

_Piper Cheeks_

_Daughter of Sandy Cheeks and Oswald "The Penguin" Cobblepot; half-sister of Salvation._

Sandy blinked, staring at the screen.

"Don't worry," reassured Ember, patting her on the back, "We'll kill the dipstick later."

_Dusk Boogie_

_Son of Oogie Boogie and Dawn._

"…so, the villain from _the Nightmare Before Christmas_ and the character from Pokemon get together?" quizzed Squidward.

_Child by Rape: He doesn't know it, though. _

"…awkward," winced Timmy.

_Siren Pelekai-Jookiba Bat_

_Daughter of Rouge the Bat and Experiment 624: Angel._

"Siren Pela-wha?" repeated Timmy.

"It's Hawaiian, you idiot," groaned Squidward.

_Bernard "Bernie" Stewart_

_Son of Amber Sweet and Reginald Stewart, aka the Local Lad/The Champ; step-brother of Kurgan Junior (though KJ doesn't know it)._

"So he comes from two musicals?" quizzed Timmy, "You could say he's the spawn of _rock!_"

"Yes, but then I would have to kill you," deadpanned Ember.

Timmy gulped, and shut up.

_Chester Cheeks-Cobblepot_

_Son of Doctor Penguinsano and Doctor Insandy (alternate-parallel universe versions of Oswald "The Penguin" Chesterfield Cobblepot and Sandy Cheeks, respectfully.)_

"Ah, not the Insanos again," groaned Sandy, burying her head in her hands again.

"Well, at least you're the only one…" Ember began.

_Delta_

_Daughter of Arcee and Ember McLain._

"…he dies for this," snarled Ember.

"What else has it got?" asked Timmy.

In the background, montage music began to play.

"Oh, you had to say that," groaned Squidward.

_Kurgan Junior – daughter of the Acid Queen (Tommy) and the Kurgan (Highlander)._

"…but I thought immortals couldn't breed?" mused Sandy.

"It's a game – relax," snapped Ember.

_Wilson Wilson – son of Deadpool and Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars)._

"Imaginative," deadpanned Squidward.

_Roxy Krueger – daughter of Freddy Krueger and Roxy Richter (Scott Pilgrim)._

"Freddy Krueger has kids?" exclaimed Timmy, "_Eeew!_"

_Susan Xian – daughter of the Nostalgia Critic and Shampoo (Ramna)._

"Let's send this to the Critic!" suggested Timmy.

"No," snapped the others.

_The Master II – son of the Master (Doctor Who) and Mystique (X-Men)._

"Again, how original," groaned Squidward.

_Inochitori Hatsune - daughter of Madotsuki and Hatsune Miku._

"VocaKid," noted Ember.

"That sounds like a Pokemon," mused Timmy.

_Rowan Inspector-Matthews - son of Pickle Inspector and Two-Bit Matthews._

"So that explains gay Bender," nodded Ember.

_Madigan Hightop - daughter of Tarrant "The Mad Hatter" Hightop and The Other Mother._

"I would've gone with Buttons," mused Ember.

_Dorian - son of Cirno and Wheatley._

"I blame Aperture," sighed Sandy, "Those guys are nuts."

_Zetta Minamimoto - Daughter of Sho Minamimoto and Doctor Insano._

"He blinded him with _science!_" exclaimed Timmy.

"Never speak again," snapped Ember, "Your voice annoys me."

_Salvation - son of Harbinger (Mass Effect) and Sandy Cheeks; half-brother of Piper._

Sandy blinked.

"Who made this one?"

She looked at the tag above it.

_E350's characters._

"Yeah, he dies," snarled Sandy, "_Slowly_."

_Tempest Vermillion – son of Noel Vermillion (BlazBlue) and Leroy (Lilo and Stitch)._ "Okay, that name is pretty awesome," admitted Timmy, "But not as cool as Thaddeus." _Angelo Kisaragi – son of Jin Kisaragi (BlazBlue) and Krystal (Star Fox)._ _Mathew – son of Master Tigress (Kung Fu Panda) and Humphrey (Alpha and Omega)._ _Xavier Draven – son of Eric Draven and the Fledging._ "Okay, that name is _even more _awesome," added Timmy. _Kyle Macleod – son of Connor Macleod and Eric Draven._ _Thaddeus Blackstone Granger – son of Harry Dresden and Hermione Granger._ "That name is still the coolest, though," finished Timmy. _Cass Hackwrench – daughter of Gadget Hackwrench and Miss Kitty Mouse._ "That name's also pretty…" "Stop commenting on names!" snapped Squidward. _Avalon Yukimori – daughter of Death the Kid and Ringo Yukimori._

"How many have we got left here?" sighed Squidward.

"Too many," snapped Ember, "I'm done with this."

She grabbed her guitar from the table and aimed at the door. She strummed, and suddenly there was no door – just a very surprised looking Dib Membrane.

"Uh…if you're looking for E3…he's fled across the border," he gulped.

Ember smirked.

"Well…you'll do," she shrugged.

She lunged at the paranormal investigator.

Sandy, Timmy and Squidward looked on as the ghost went to work on Dib, the latter screaming and yelping in pain.

"Should we help him?" asked Sandy.

Timmy and Squidward shrugged.

* * *

><p>And you too can break your brain by following this link!: http :  / tvtropes . org / pmwiki / pmwiki . php / RolePlay / DeadlyMistakes


	9. 09 10 11: To Whom It May Concern

Sorry it's not my usual standard, I went out today. :|

Review replies;

**aslan333:** It's an RP I'm in.

**Isa the One Eyed Zombie:** WE SHALL _RULE THE WOOOOOOORLD!_ eheheh... Thanks for reading.

**Nausicaa of the Spirits:** Sorry about that. :| I ran out of ideas. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55: **Quick! To Mexico! AWAAAAAY! Thanks for the review.

**Madness Abe: **It's distubularious! :D Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** It doesn't help that Dib is so easy to pick on for some reason. :| Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>0910/11 – To Whom It May Concern**

To Whom It May Concern,

Project Two-Five have continued as ordered.

Physical tests have been carried out upon subjects DP, VP, VG and DiP. The tests clashed with a live-fire test of new small arms; again, as you ordered. Despite complaints from Lieutenant Membrane, the tests have provided extremely interesting results, which shall be mailed in a separate document.

All four subjects show extreme resilience in the face of harsh testing. So far, subject VP has shown the most stubbornness in the face of testing, followed by (in order) DP, VG and DiP. DiP is the closest at this time to mental breakdown – I am having Dr. Spectra keep an eye on her development.

Subject DP has shown the greatest physical improvement during his time in captivity – his power has increased by at least three times since arrival. This will make a difference when the time comes to deploy to the front.

Away from the subjects, weapons development has continued routinely in the past month. We have successfully put a new weapon through the prototype stages, and we believe it will be key to infantry combat with the enemy. The weapon is called PUNISHER (Mk. I at present stage – there is room for improvement) – a modification of the M14 Battle Rifle to fire a high-calibre 8.52mm cartridge tipped in a residue of arsenic, ectoplasma and salt water.

Yesterday, Lieutenant Membrane conducted a test of PUNISHER on seven prisoners, including Subject Z. He fired ten shots of the rifle, of which two were misses, three were instant kills, and four later caused death (ironically, the only survivor was the much-maligned Subject Z.)

Continued research into these fields of development is imperative, if we are to protect the integrity and freedom of humanity. We hope that the United Nations sees fit to provide further funding.

In response to DP's allegations of my own 'treachery', I would like to add that the issue between myself the subject is entirely personal, and that I pose no threat to humanity.

Yours in confidence  
>Dr. Madeline Fenton<br>SEN/GIW Allied Network, [CLASSIFIED], North Dakota

* * *

><p>Yeah, sorry it's not up to as much cop as usual.<p> 


	10. 10 10 11: Montage of Doom!

Contined from the 2nd.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Awesome, sounds good. :D Thanks for reading!

**Dimentio713:** You certainly can, my friend. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**MadnessAbe:** Well, PUNISHER's supposed to be an infantry weapon with bonuses, rather then Wunderwaffe. Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** Oh my god, I just got that. XD Lucky coincidence, that last one. :) Thanks very much!

**aslan333:** Sane people are boring. :P Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** You know, I might just consider that... Thanks exceedingly!

* * *

><p><strong>1010/11 – Montage of Doom**

Officer James Henrrys was not having a good morning. Then again, Officer Henrrys _never_ had any good mornings.

He had been sent down by Chief Wiggum (who was probably too lazy to go himself, as the Museum was outside of Henrrys' patrol area) to investigate a robbery that had occurred earlier that day, completely under the noses of the museum security.

"So," he asked, in an icily calm tone, "You are telling me that this guy attempted to jimmy the lock on the Chalice cabinet with his fingers. He failed to do this, and thus attempted to smash the cabinet with a net."

The security guard nodded, looking at his feet.

"And then, you are telling me that this complete idiot of a burglar still managed to get away with the Chalice because _the cabinet wasn't locked,_" finished Henrrys.

The guard nodded again.

"If I was your boss, you would be _more_ then fired," snapped Henrrys.

He turned to the police behind him.

"Alright, gentlemen, we've got a thief on the loose," he snarled, "I want him found and locked up before tonight."

* * *

><p>Spongebob ran back into Room 214, backpack over his shoulder. He brought the Chalice out of his backpack and stuffed it into a drawer in the kitchen.<p>

"Okay, one down, three to go," he breathed, wiping his forehead, "Now I just need to find the others. Then I can do this ritual thing, and then I'll return everything."

He paused.

"Why am I talking to myself?" he asked.

He glanced at a map of the city on the table.

"But how am I gonna get them all in time?" he exclaimed, "They're all over town!"

Then a lightbulb went off in his head.

"_Montage!_" he grinned!

* * *

><p>Dash Baxter browsed over the <em>ColonialEnlightenment/So-Forth Literature _section at the Municipal Library, looking for something to read. As it turned out, the jock did actual hold an interest in the subject – and if anyone ever found out, he would kill them.

"Ah, Voltaire," he lamented, "You were so before your time."

He heard the sound of books being removed, and glanced aside.

Spongebob was staring at him, _the Book of Death_ under his arm.

"Hey!" snapped Dash, "I've seen you with Fenton! You're gonna tell him I was here!"

"…no I'm not," replied Spongebob, quickly.

Dash clenched his fists. Spongebob squirmed, and began to run.

* * *

><p>Jimmy heard a knock on his door. Setting down Goddard (as he'd been working on an upgrade for the mechanical dog) he strode over to the door and answered.<p>

A tall, suited man stood at the door, his arms crossed.

"Hello," he said brightly, "I've come to curse you."

"Whose fault was it?" asked Jimmy, unamused.

"The square guy," shrugged the Underworld King.

"Figures," sighed Jimmy.

The Undergrowth King took on his demon form, and Jimmy screamed.

* * *

><p>Spongebob climbed out of a manhole near the South Eisner Reservoir and ran down the street, grasping the Wheel of Life in his hands.<p>

The Sewer King emerged from the manhole, squinting in the brightness.

"Bring me back my Royal Toilet Seat!" he thundered, waving his fist in the total opposite direction.

* * *

><p>The Undergrowth King materialised outside the room and knocked on the door. He waited for the answer, before assuming his demon form.<p>

"_I am here for you, Patrick Star!_" he thundered.

"Patrick's down at Goofy Goobers," replied Squidward, bluntly, "Whatever you wanna sell him, I don't want it."

He slammed the door.

The Underworld King took on human form and glanced at the mailbox, the names of the rooms occupants engraved on the flap.

"Star and Tentacles," he read, "Hmm. Poor guy's already cursed."

* * *

><p>Spongebob walked into the lift on the top floor of the Twentieth Century Building, the Key of Despair in his pocket. It was in the office of one Hank Scorpio, but it had been unattended and he'd been able to get in and out easily.<p>

The lift doors shut, and the machine began it's decent of the seventy-seven floors of the building. Only then did Spongebob recognise the lift's other occupant.

"Hank Scorpio?" he exclaimed, horrified.

"Yep, that's me!" replied Scorpio, quite affably, "Did you want a job? We've got an opening in inner management."

"…uh…no, no, I was…I saw you in the newspaper…yeah," replied Spongebob.

"Oh," responded Scorpio, "Well, if you need a job, I'm always open. Here's my card."

He handed Spongebob a business card, before the bell rang and Scorpio left the elevator.

Spongebob waited until the door closed before wiping the sweat from his brow.

* * *

><p>"We've got at least ten people missing," stated Simmonds, pacing the room, "And Henrrys is trying to put a burglary case on us."<p>

"Can you tell us what _isn't_ normal?" sighed David.

Simmonds looked out the window of the room. The sun was low in the sky – soon night would come, and with it would come the judging of the decoration contest.

"The names," replied Simmonds, "Turner. Fenton. Neutron. Star. Cheeks. Wakeman. Shortman. Thornberry. The usual suspects, minus one."

"So all of Spongebob's friends have gone missing," mused David, "So, how can we pin this on him?"

"David," deadpanned Simmonds.

"What, I don't like him!" replied David, waving his arms.

"Well, we'll need to talk to him," nodded Simmonds, "Which, of course, is why we're here."

The door opened, and Spongebob stepped into the room, juggling the key in his hands. He froze when he saw the Major and the assistant manager.

"Ah, Spongebob," nodded Simmonds, "Good to see you. Care to tell me _what_ exactly is going on?"

He opened the drawer and pointed to the contents.

Spongebob gulped.

* * *

><p>Yeah, this bit is basically filler - it gets <em>much<em> more interesting.


	11. 11 10 11: Come the Revolution

Tucker + LA Noire + Robots = Profit?

Review replies;

**Movie-Brat:** I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say this, MB, but I don't watch My Little Pony. I'll think about the other ideas, though. Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** At least we can sing about it, eh? _Cause this is fillleeeeer! Filler time!_ (I love the Critic. :P) Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, montages _do_ save time, my friend. Just ask the eighties! :P Thanks for reviewing.

**TweenisodeOrange:** I really have to watch that show... Thanks very much!

**Madness Abe: **...but Voltaire wasn't a poet, he was a satirist. :| Also, this is the Sewer King from Hey Arnold!, who is much less effective. Thanks!

**aslan333:** Yes he is. And now I have a Beverly Hills Cop song stuck in my head. Thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>1110/11 – Come the Revolution**

_Los Angeles, 1947._

Los Angeles was on fire.

Not that he could see it, of course. But Tucker Foley could hear the sirens, the sounds of panic on the streets outside Hollywood Police Station. From his room without a view, he could tell that chaos had been unleashed.

For the past three days, Tucker had witnessed a parade of idiocy and corruption across the city of LA. Not that that was unusual, of course – this was simply a whole new level of stupidity and misdeed.

It had started when the LAPD's Administrative Vice Department had uncovered a plot for a Mechan uprising across the USA, centred on the City of Angels. What followed was a manhunt, which had nearly every man in the Los Angeles Police Department searching tooth and nail for the conspirators inside the Boyle Heights Ghetto.

As a man with interest in technology and sympathies with the Mechans, Tucker had been questioned early on by two guys from the Homicide Department, who were looking into a murder believed to have been committed by Mechans somewhere near his house in Bunker Hill. He'd answered their questions honestly, and they'd left – Tucker hadn't expected to hear any more about it.

Then some idiots from a Mechan supremacist group detonated a bomb in the Hall of Records.

All bets were off. The National Guard was deployed. LA was placed under martial law, and the Chief of Police, William Worrell, ordered any and all high-profile Mechans to be rounded up and taken to San Quentin. In response, the Mechans burnt down Central Receiving Hospital.

By the morning of today, tensions were at breaking point. A massive riot broke out in the ghetto, and four patrolmen were killed. The city began to fall into blind panic – a high profile supporter of Mechans was gunned down in broad daylight outside Central Police Station. President Dewey made a desperate call for calm on the radio, but the call went unheard.

At about three pm, Tucker had been in his office at California Mechanics, about to head home. At that point, his door was kicked open, and a guy from Ad Vice (one Roy Earle) was holding a gun to him, declaring him under arrest.

Now, he was sitting in a cell at Hollywood Police Station, listening to the world go to hell outside. Several other prisoners were held in the other cells – most of them Mechan sympathisers that the corrupted detective had taken in.

The door opened, and Tucker looked up. There was the detective, looking smug as could be, standing with the Chief of Police himself.

"I told you," sneered Roy, motioning to the cells, "There's eight of them. The DA's gonna get some nice press from this."

"…and the riot?" asked Worrell, eyebrow raised.

"Just a bunch of Mechans," shrugged Roy, waving his arm, "GIs'll just put some bullets into their leaders and the rest of them will run."

"You sure?" replied Worrell, "The Brigadier-General's saying they're organised and heavily armed."

"So?" retorted Roy, "They're still Mechans. Dumb as bricks and twice as ugly."

Worrell nodded.

"We still have to deal with these gentlemen," he said.

"Fifth columnists," spat Roy, waving his arms at the cells, "I suppose you're all happy about this, aren't you? You're Mechan friends'll take over the country, and then you can all join hands with the Jews and Negros and all that s**t."

He spat at one of the prisoners.

"News flash," he sneered, "Not gonna happen."

"Deal with them," snapped Worrell, "What the press and the DA don't know, won't hurt 'em."

Earle nodded, and pulled out a gun.

"Say goodnight, pinkos," he snapped.

Tucker shut his eyes. There were a series of seven bangs.

Tucker opened one eye.

Roy had dropped his pistol, the occupants of the other cells all dead from head wounds. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a knife and grinned.

Tucker backed against the wall as the detective entered his cell, sneering.

"A pinko _and_ a negro," he sneered, "This'll be fun…"

He raised the knife.

There was a massive explosion, and Tucker was thrown against the wall.

* * *

><p>Tucker opened his eyes, his head feeling as if it were on fire.<p>

The cell was covered in rubble, the shining glow of a fire visible from outside. Worrell was on the ground – his head and several limbs were in other places, and the floor was stained red.

A large Mechan – an assassin variant pioneered by the Germans in the war, Tucker noticed – leaned over Roy. The Vice Detective was covering near the wall.

The assassin turned his hand into a scythe, and slashed at Roy's back. Roy screamed, but the assassin paid no heed. There was another slash, and then the Mechan turned his arms into weights and set to work on the dirty cop.

After a minute of punching and screaming, the Mechan grabbed Roy by the collar. A jetpack emerged from his back and it flew away, taking the badly beaten detective with him.

Shakily, Tucker climbed to his feet and stumbled out of the cell block, through the burning police station and onto the street.

The city was an inferno. The hills were on fire, the Hollywoodland sign disintegrating under the flames. The burnt out shells of tanks and vehicles littered the streets.

Tucker hobbled down Wilcox Boulevard, hoping to find shelter…

* * *

><p>GUESS WHICH PARTNER I DIDN'T LIKE LOL<p> 


	12. 12 10 11: A Parody

AN: I FORGOT TO PUT THIS UP. AND IT'S CRAP AS WELL. :(

...what have I done?

Review replies;

**Gokiburi Prince:** 'sall right, I understand. :D Thanks for reading!

**aslan333: **Why thank you. :P

**TweenisodeOrange:** It's an AU of LA Noire. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55: **I _hate_ Roy, actually. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** No Truman, actually. Glad you liked the Roy beating! :D Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>1210/11 – A Parody**

Autorors nose: I have wirtntten a new parody and I hope you like it it's a parodyu of some guy called shakes pear (dats what may spellcheck sez lol) hez pretty gould but I think pixer is better anyways enjoy!

GIRLET

By parodywritermcwriterman

Chapiter 1: Goasts.

1 night in Toonmark Prince, Prince GIR was hanging around in a castle wen his best friend Ash and two other guise came in.

"GIR we have seen the ghost of your dad!1!" says Ash.

"Bacon," says GIR.

So GIR went to fine the ghost of his dad (who was rainbow bash) and rainbow bash said;

"Son I was kill by Malecificant."

GIR was surprised!

"avenge my death," said rainbow bash, "but don't tell anyone!"

"Okey-dokie!" sez GIR.

Chaplain 2: broing stuff happens

Later King Mallecficant's advisor (who is that dog from Garfield) and his sun bender come back from France. The dogs daughter gaz gets carted by GIR. GIR acted funny so everyone said he was insane.

Kaplan 3: lots of stuff happens

Some stuff happens but it's really boring so I'll skip to the really good bits.

Copter 4: to bee or not to bee (the really famas bit)

"To be, or not to be: that is the question;" sez GIR, "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

(didn't copy that honest)

Captor 5: Everybody dies

The End.

* * *

><p>Mr. Lancer blinked, staring in horror at the defilement of English literature on the paper before him.<p>

Angrily, he stood up from his desk and stared down the class.

"Alright, class," he snarled, "We're going on a field trip. Whoever brings me the head of the writer of this story shall be exempted from homework for the rest of the year."

The class glanced to one another, looking rather worried. They became even more worried when Mr. Lancer pulled a massive machine gun out from under his desk.

"Hell hath no fury," snarled Mr. Lancer, "Like an English teacher scorned."

* * *

><p>I am really getting sick of cut-and-paste 'fanmakes' cluttering this section, drowning both the good fanmakes and the original stuff. Sorry if this came out a bit vindicative, though.<p> 


	13. 13 10 11: Black Sun

I am really, really sorry about the lateness (and crappiness) of yesterday's shot. I have no excuse, it was me being lazy, stupid and playing too mcuh Wolfenstein. In fact, I'm so sorry that everyone gets a free devart request (Halloween or others). This isn't me shilling or anything, I really am sorry about this.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** I'm glad you liked it, but in retrospect, I think I was just being petty. Still, glad to see someone agrees with me. Thanks for reading.

* * *

><p><strong>1310/11 – Black Sun**

1945.

With the Second World War nearing its close, Western Allied and Soviet troops close on the defeated Third Reich. Whole army groups surrender en masse. Now, the former allies race each other for scientists and technology developed by the Nazi regime.

As General Patton's Third Army crashes through Bavaria, it discovers the headquarters of the secretive SS Paranormal Division, a unit that takes direct orders from Himmler. The Division's scientists, researchers and (for lack of a better word) occultists are shipped off to the United States – it's officers and some of the foot soldiers would soon stand trial for war crimes.

One of the major projects discovered by the GIs was a small medallion known as the 'Thule Medallion.' A device of incredible power, it drew its energy from the 'Black Sun Dimension.' It could affect time, shield its user and empower any firearms held by him or her.

There was one major problem. The GIs who found it were not trained in its operation. A rifleman took hold of the medallion, and in the next five seconds he managed to strip four of his comrades and a captured SS soldier to the bone before dying in what seemed to be an invisible explosion. His sergeant reported that the private had reported seeing invisible creatures and started firing at nothing before his death.

After the war, the Pentagon launched exhaustive tests of the Thule Medallion, and eventually perfected it as a weapon and utility. It was given as a personal weapon only to those who passed a special test – and they would only hold the position for two years.

The Medallioneer, as he was called, was tasked with the most intricate and secret operations conducted by US Intelligence, answerable only to the President and the Joint Chiefs…and usually at least somewhat unhinged.

Indeed, you could almost say the Medallion was tainted – the technology of psychopaths.

* * *

><p><em>CODENAME<em>_ – __BOTTLED__WATER  
>Target:<em>_S.__Cheeks  
>Objective:<em>_Assassination  
>Background:<em>_Organization__close__to__replicating__Thule__Medallion__ – __executing__Cheeks__will__impair__their__program__significantly._

* * *

><p>She was being paranoid. She <em>had<em> to be.

She'd been working on the thing her boss had wanted her to build for days on end. So what if she'd thought she'd seen someone behind her? It was just the stress.

She would have stopped, but she felt she was onto something here. A little more work, and an opening to this bizarre 'alternate dimension' would be made. Then it was just a matter of containing the energy released to…

"Madam."

Sandy jumped, and turned around.

A suited man stood in front of her, arms crossed. His eyebrow was raised in a bemused manner.

Sandy made a defensive stance, glaring at the intruder.

"You'd better have a good reason to be here, varmint!" she snarled.

"United States Government," replied the man, almost in monotone, "I'm here to put a stop to your research."

Sandy narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" she demanded.

The man snorted. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled at medallion. It was large, and adorned with three crystals.

"I hold in my hand the Thule Medallion," he replied, "It allows the user to draw power from the Black Sun Dimension."

Sandy glanced at the machine.

"The one my bosses ordered me to channel?" she quizzed.

"Your bosses?" sniffed the man, "You really think that came from your bosses?"

"…yeah," replied Sandy, shrugging, "It was their email address. What other folk would it be, anyway?"

The man laughed now.

"An organization of hackers, delinquents, crazies and vigilantes bent on 'saving the world'," he replied, "An organization known as the Swollen Eyeball Network."

Sandy blinked.

"The nutty ones, right?" she asked.

"In large groups, the crazy can be dangerously sane," warned the man.

He glanced at Sandy's unfinished machine.

"I'm under orders to kill you if you don't desist," he explained, "But would it influence your decision if I told you that the science you're using was developed by the Nazis?"

Sandy crossed her arms.

"Go on."

"Gladly," responded the man, "All research involving the Black Sun Dimension was ordered by General Viktor Zetta of the SS Paranormal Division in 1943. He tested his Black Sun programs on civilians, hospital patients and his own troops. This is tainted technology, madam."

Sandy glanced at the unfinished invention again, this time quite uncertainly.

"Alright, mister," she sighed, "You made your point. I'm done with this."

"Heh, Godwin's Law," chuckled the Agent, "Well then, I won't kill you."

Suddenly, the medallion glowed a bright yellow.

Sandy tried to ask what the glow was, only to find that her mouth didn't respond to her brain's commands. In fact, nothing at all responded to her brain's commands. She seemed to have been frozen.

The man held his head back and laughed.

"I love Mire," he sneered, "I caused a temporal flux. "You're frozen in time for, say…" he looked at his watch, "The next eternity, give or take."

_What?_ thought Sandy, _No!__He__can__'__t__…__I__can__'__t__be__…__he__said__…_

"But I kept my word," the man grinned, "I didn't kill you. Ain't that nice of me?"

_If__I__could__touch__you,__I__'__d__show__you_nice_,__ya__dang__dirty__son__of__…_

He gave a thumbs up. In the reflection from his watch, Sandy could gather that she had been turned into some sort of stone-like substance – she looked almost like a statue made tan granite.

"Well, I'll be going," finished the man, "The Thule squad'll be here to pick you and take you to base, until then…don't go anywhere."

_No…you get back here…I can't be stuck like this…get back here!_

He walked over to the door. Before leaving, however, he turned around and looked at Sandy one more time.

"Like I said," he winked as he spoke, "Tainted stuff. The technology of psychopaths."

He walked out the door, whistling to himself.

And there, Sandy stayed.

* * *

><p>I effing love Wolfenstein. :P<p> 


	14. 14 10 11: London Underground

I'd just like to thank everyone for their support. :) It really means a lot to me.

Now, this chapter is set to this tune: http : / / www . youtube . com / watch?v=KsXAZfO5e6k&feature=related

I can't find a version without singing, so...yeah, enjoy German. It's a nice language. Also, no, this did not happen when I was on the train in Germany.

Review replies;

**Gokiburi-Prince:** It is indeed bad news. It is also a heck of a lot of fun to use. Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Glad you like it. Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** Yes I am.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I have a few ideas of who he might be, but in the end, I decided to leave him unidentified. Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** I just felt bad about it, is all. Still, I'm glad you think I did better. Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>1410/11 – London Underground**

It's interesting, what can be found,  
>Within the London Underground,<br>It's more then just electric trains,  
>T'why I'm singing this refrain.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Danny Fenton bought a fare,  
>Took the District to Sloane Square,<br>Knew he had done something wrong,  
>When he got off at Wimbledon.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Paulina gathered up her airs,  
>Went Circle down to Blackfriars,<br>When she arrived, she was stuck there,  
>'Cause the station's still closed for repair.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Jimmy nearly met his maker,  
>At Regent's Park, upon the Baker,<br>There he suffered a mishap,  
>When he forgot to Mind the Gap.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Timmy went upon a lark,  
>On the Piccadilly to Green Park,<br>Upset a witch at Gloucester Road,  
>And then got turned into a toad.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

In the drinks machine at Waterloo,  
>They ran out of Mountain Dew,<br>John turned to fear and to despair,  
>Then he drank his railway fare.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

An invention, AJ did refine,  
>On the Hammersmith and City Line,<br>Turned it on at Baker Street,  
>To clean the mess it took a week.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Jenny went upon a train,  
>Central Line to Chancery Lane,<br>At Bank the coppers had her charged,  
>'Cause robots can't hold Oyster Cards.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Remy got on at Highgate,  
>Took the Northern to Moorgate,<br>But he still hadn't got a scent,  
>Of good ol' Mornington Crescent!<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

Squidward took the Jubilee,  
>Wasn't proud of what he'd see,<br>'Cause work upon the Underground,  
>Was causing Big Ben to fall down.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

On the Metropolitan,  
>Dib got on at Barbican,<br>At Wembley Park he claimed to see,  
>A Big Foot manned CCTV.<p>

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

At Kings Cross, Vicky set off down,  
>Past Oxford Circus, into town,<br>At last she found what she could claim,  
>Was Victoria – was her name!<p>

_…and that's a lot better then the twerp could claim._

Pinner, Stanmore, Edgware Road,  
>Oval, Stockwell, Marylebone,<br>Shoreditch High Street, Leicester Square,  
>Bond Street, Euston and Edgware.<p>

* * *

><p>This is actually based on a parody song about bizarre names on the Queensland Railways, that uses the same tune.<p> 


	15. 15 10 11: The Green Light

I like tacos. Let us read. :P

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** It's a nice place. :) I think you'd like it. Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Well, I do enjoy fics like this. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Movie-Brat:** I could use some of those. Thanks for the suggestions!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad to see I've succeeded in my aims. :) Thanks for the review!

**aslan333:** ...yup.

* * *

><p><strong>1510/11 – The Green Light**

It had been a long night.

Valerie Grey flew above the city of Amity Park, fighting exhaustion as she soared towards home. There had been a good few ghosts out that night, and it hadn't helped that Phantom had decided to butt in, _as__always_. Now, she had thrown in the towel, and was prepared to sleep…for all of three hours. _Wonderful._

As she rocketed over the town, she thought she'd seen a flicker of green light over the western horizon, but she shrugged it off as a hallucination.

She really needed to sleep.

* * *

><p>Danny and Valerie sat on the bus, heading for school. It was rare that either of them caught the bus, but it was raining buckets, and they were already late as it was. This bus, at least, happened to stop nearby to Casper High.<p>

Danny was looking out the window, rapping on the glass with his fingers. Sam and Tucker would find an excuse for him, he hoped – if not, well, what was another detention at this point?

"Hey Fenturd!"

Danny slammed his heed into the seat in front of him, groaning very loudly.

The hulking form of Dash Baxter stormed up to him, looking very angry.

"My alarm didn't go off this morning," he snapped, "Guess whose fault that is!"

"…yours?" replied Danny.

"No," snarled Dash, making a fist with his right hand, "But good guess…"

"Last stop, everyone get off!" the driver barked.

Dash scowled at Danny, and marched off the bus. Danny sighed, picked up his bag, and alighted.

He stopped, blinking.

"This isn't Casper High…" he heard someone say.

They had been dumped in the middle of a patch of grassland, far from the boundaries of Amity Park. The rain poured down on them unrelentingly as they stared across the unending plain.

"Hey, bus driver!" barked Dash, placing his foot on the bus step, "News flash! This ain't Casper!"

"Of course it ain't," deadpanned the driver, "Go to school and stop wasting my…"

All of a sudden, Dash fell forward, landing face-first where the bus had previously been.

Valerie blinked as the bus disappeared and the massive jock earned a face-full of asphalt. Ignoring the pained whimpering of the wounded brute, she looked around at the gloomy steppe. There was no life, save for grass, to be seen.

"Okay," she heard Danny Fenton ask, "What happened?"

"What do you think, Fenton?" snapped Star, who had missed her bus that morning, "It's gotta be ghosts!"

"Hey, is someone gonna help Dash up?" quizzed Mikey (a short nerd who was in their class.)

Valerie and Danny walked over to the fallen bully and grabbed his arms, pulling him up. He was bruised, and had a small gash on his forehead, but he seemed okay.

Grunting, the bully pushed Danny away.

"Get your hands off me, Fenton!" he snapped.

"Yeah, you're welcome," retorted Danny.

"Why you little…"

"Guys!" snapped Valerie, "Not the time! We've gotta find out where we are!"

"Maybe the nerdy kid has a GPS or something," mused Star, pointing to Mikey.

Mikey looked a bit miffed at the label, but he pulled some sort of phone-gadget (Valerie couldn't recognise it) and pressed a button.

"Uh…" gulped Mikey, "It says we're not on Earth."

"_What?_" demanded Dash.

Valerie quickly positioned herself between Dash and the cowering Mikey.

"Well, maybe we're in the Ghost Zone, then," she mused.

"Doesn't look like it," observed Danny, "Not green enough."

The group stared at him.

"…not that I'd know anything about that," he finished, quickly.

Valerie glanced at the road.

"Hey, let's try heading down the road," she decided, "We might find something."

"Aww, but that means we have to walk," groaned Dash, "In the _rain_."

"You got a better idea, Baxter?" snapped Valerie, scowling at the jock.

Dash gulped, and followed Valerie as she headed off down the road.

* * *

><p>The sun was coming down when the exhausted group found shelter from the unending rain.<p>

It was a small, abandoned inn, with enough rooms for each of them to sleep privately. Danny had volunteered to take first shift in guarding the inn, just in case something happened.

He stood against the wall in the hallway, listening to the thundering rain outside. He was just about to wake Dash up (he was on second shift), when he heard a crash from another corridor.

Running over to the source of the crash, he found a broken down door leading to the basement. He considered changing into Phantom, but decided to check it out as a human, first.

He crept downstairs, squinting in the dark.

Valerie was standing in front of a pulsating green light in the corner, looking shocked. Confused, Danny ran down the steps towards her.

"Val?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

"The light," breathed Valerie, "It's…I think it's…"

Danny looked at it, staring into the light. It was extremely bright, hurting his eyes. He looked away, quickly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"…I think I need to go in there," breathed Valerie.

Danny blinked.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's calling to me," replied Valerie, "I don't know how, but…it just is."

"Val, what's going on?"

"FENTURD! Why aren't you guarding us?"

Star and Dash came down the stairs. They saw the light, and quickly averted their eyes.

"What the heck is that?" demanded Star, "Did you do this, Fenton?"

"How could I have made that?" thundered Danny.

"Maybe it's some sort of portal?" mused Dash, thinking for what Danny thought may be the first time in his life, "It could get us back to Amity Park!"

"What's going on?" groaned Mikey, tiredly hobbling down the stairs.

Valerie started to walk forward.

"Val!" yelled Danny, grabbing her collar, "What're you doing?"

"Get back here!" snapped Star, "You can't go in there!"

Valerie slapped Danny's hand off of her and walked into the light.

It exploded, bathing the other four in its vibrant light. Danny covered his eyes and gritted his teeth as a screeching noise filled the air, filled his very head…

* * *

><p>...and that is where it ends, because I wrote myself into a wall. :P<p>

Since I forgot to put up a word yesterday, I shall do it today. Word is **Voyage.** Also, the due-date is November 10, just to clarify.


	16. 16 10 11: In 200 Words Or Less

Yeah, I was strapped for time. Sorry. :P

Review replies;

**MadnessAbe:** Interesting ideas... :| Thanks for reading!

**aslan333:** Only if it's a _green_ light, my friend. :P Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55:** D'OH! Glad you liked it. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I might continue it...but I say that a lot. :P Thanks very much!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Maybe you can into space! :P (It's an internet joke) Thanks!

**Dimentio713:** Meh - I like dark. :P Thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>1610/11 – In 200 Words Or Less**

_Class Assignment - describe a historical event in two-hundred words or less._

_T. Turner._

_Topic: King Henry VIII of England._

King Henry VIII of England was a crazy guy who lived in England in the 16th century. He was really fat and ugly and he stank.

He married a Spanish chick called Catherine of Eragon for a while, but then he wanted to marry a hot chick called Anne Bowling so he divorced Catherine. The Pope didn't like it so Henry told him to get lost. Then he killed a monk called Thomas Wolsey just because that was how he rolled.

Anne Bowling couldn't give him a son, so he ditched her and cut off her head. Then he married another chick called Jane Seymour. Jane Seymour had a baby boy but then she died so Henry needed a new wife.

He got hitched to Anne of Cleve (Cleveland?) but he got rid of her because she looked like a horse. Then he married Catherine Howard but cut off her head because she had done two other guys and Henry was a hippo-crit.

Then Henry married a chick called Catherine Parr, and then he died so he couldn't marry anyone else.

And that's why Henry VIII was really cool and how all the axemen kept their jobs in England.

The End.

_Turner,__that__'__s__two-hundred__and_one_words.__See__me__after__class._

_**F**_

_Also, FAIRYGODPARENTS._

* * *

><p>I WONDER WHO THE TEACHER WAS<p> 


	17. 17 10 11: Bitter Memories

Again, a quick one - I'm hoping to update Stage Fright tonight, or at least work on it.

Review replies;

**Dimentio713:** Are you sure? Cleveland makes _everything _better! Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing!

**OwlheadAthena: **...I don't think they'd like it. :[ Thanks for the review!

**aslan333: **...yes, that was the joke.

**Cartoonatic55:** Get well soon, then! And defeat dem spiders for me! Thanks very much.

**Third-Kind:** I think it should've been a D at least, though. :| Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>1710/11: Bitter Memories**

21st December, 1868.

It was a night that Danny Fenton never forgot.

As a light snow fell over the Virginian village, he watched as his unit of blue-clad soldiers stumbled around, horror eschewed over their worn, exhausted faces. For the calm but eerie white of the snow was stained in red.

He had grown up in villages like this – they all had. In each soldier, the torn and mangled bodies of the unfortunate villagers were replaced by those of their friends and families. This was too real – even in the dark days of the Civil War, no-one had seen anything so...one could not describe it.

"Sweet merciful Jesus," Corporal Dash Baxter had breathed at last, shaking his head.

Danny entered a house, his trapdoor rifle shaking as he looked at the mangled possessions inside. It was a single room hut. A man lay at the foot of the small, damp cot in the middle, clutching his shredded abdomen.

He gave one look at the soldier and spat out his last words.

"Where the hell were you?...goddamn Yankees..."

Danny fought the urge to vomit, and staggered out into the open again. The truth, a truth he knew all too well, ate into him, hurting almost as much as a physical wound.

There was a scream from one of the houses, and two soldiers ran to the door, their rifles held out but shaking violently from fear.

One soldier got a look inside – he let out a loud swear.

Danny watched, frozen, too numb to even scream, as a wolf-creature lunged from the building and tore the unfortunate man to shreds.

He didn't know how he managed it, or even when he had started to run, but he soon found himself lying in the snow in a filthy old barn, his uniform bloody and torn, with just four others recovering from what they had been through. One man, a hardened soldier who had fought at Antietam, Bull Run and Gettysburg, was weeping uncontrollably.

Danny never forgot that night.

He never forgave, either.

* * *

><p>From a shelved fic idea, a few moths back.<p> 


	18. 18 10 11: Night of the Mutated Nerds

The saga continues! :D

Review replies;

**Madness Abe:** Abe...this is post-Civil War...in the 1860s. :| Anyway, thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** You shall fight them on the beaches! :D Thanks for reviewing.

**aslan333: **Yup.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, I should probably change the name; Halloween Unspectacular II: Year of the Plot Bunnies! XD Thanks for the review.

**Gokiburi-Prince:** I have many unused ideas. Probably too many. :P Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>1810/11 – Night of the Mutated Nerds**

"A museum robbery," snapped Simmonds, "Keys stolen from the Globex Corp, a book taken from the library's restricted section, and the Sewer King threatening to invade the surface because someone stole his wheel."

He crossed his arms.

"Why, pray tell, do you possess objects of the exact same descriptions?"

Spongebob gulped. He was sitting in the Major's office, lit only by a desk lamp. Simmonds and David were pacing about him – so far, they seemed to be doing an equally effective 'bad cop.'

"Uh…" whimpered Spongebob, "…an amazing coincidence?"

"Tell us, Squarepants," snapped David, "Or I get out the pliers."

"David," deadpanned Simmonds.

"What?" shrugged David, "I'm just trying to make him talk."

"I told you yesterday!" exclaimed Spongebob, "Timmy got captured by the Underworld King! I had to get those items so that I could do a ritual to free him and defeat the King!"

"Sorry lad, but I'm calling bull on that," snapped Simmonds, "Unless you've got concrete proof, we're assuming this is some sort of Halloween joke blown way out of proportion. Now you can go and return that stuff before the police get on…"

There was a clap of thunder, followed by the rattle of rain on the window.

"When did it start raining?" quizzed the Major.

"That's not rain, that's the Underworld King!" quivered Spongebob, "He's come for all I know and love!"

"If this is your Underworld King, then I'm Bill Slim," groaned Simmonds, "Look outside, it's just your imagination…"

He pulled the blinds on the window.

The courtyard and street beyond were blanketed in a thick red mist, contrasting the eerie purple sky. The glow blood red windows shone from the darkened skyscrapers of the skyline, and despite the rain a full moon could be seen overhead.

"…ah," said the Major.

"Well, he was right," nodded David, his tone somewhat bemused, "But if the town's already been cursed, then why hasn't the Underworld King come for Spongebob yet…"

The door (and most of the wall) crumbled as the oversized form of the Underworld King smashed into the room.

"_I __have__ come__ for__ your__ souls!_" he thundered.

"Speak of the devil," sighed Simmonds.

"Touché," nodded the Underworld King, "Anyway, where was I…oh yes, _deliver __me__ their __brains,__ my__ thralls!_"

He evaporated into smoke, revealing a mob of zombies stumbling through the door.

"Zombies?" quizzed David, "I thought you said he made vampires?"

"I _did!_" replied Spongebob, backing towards the window, "Maybe he can make more then one monster!"

"Why are we expositing?" demanded Simmonds, "We're being attacked by the undead!"

The other two glanced at the zombies. They were extremely slow – the lead zombies had barely made it past the door.

"Oh, right," nodded David, "Well, we'll lead them off – Spongebob, you go back up to the cemetery and do that ritual!"

"But I can't go out there!" gasped Spongebob.

"It's this or them," said Simmonds, bluntly, pointing at the (very slowly) advancing undead.

Spongebob gulped, and jumped out the window.

He stumbled across the courtyard, past the Krusty Krab and towards the gates of the Nickhouse. Thankfully, there were few zombies in the area, and he managed to get out unharmed. Turning the corner onto the street, he began to run in the direction of the cemetery.

* * *

><p>Over the road, Henrrys and his partner, one Deputy Harrison, watched the sponge flee down the road from their squad car.<p>

"Running from the scene, is he?" he sneered.

"Looks like he's headed for the cemetery," mused Harrison.

"Then that's where we're going," nodded Henrrys, "We've got an arrest to make…"

* * *

><p>Spongebob ran into the cemetery. He skidded to a halt, just past the first line of stones.<p>

A crevice had opened in the middle of the graveyard, fumes from the burning fires within cascading upwards. Spongebob could just see the crypt, deep within the ravine.

The prospect of getting there was uninviting, to say the least.

"Afraid, Spongebob?" a low voice sneered.

Spongebob jumped, and turned around. Timmy was behind him, his arms crossed. An evil grin displayed his sharp fangs.

"T-Timmy!" gasped Spongebob.

"Oh, but he's not the only one, Spongebob…"

There was a puff of smoke, and a red-eyed Dani appeared. She was wearing a witch's robe and hat, and her skin was green. She held a crooked wand in her right hand, and a broom under her left arm.

"You're too much of a coward to go in there, aren't you?" she snarled, nastily.

"Oh, but don't be scared," continued Timmy, "You don't have to be worried about failure. We prepared already…"

He pointed to an open grave, not far from them. Spongebob looked at the tomb stone.

He screamed.

For engraved upon the mossy, cracked stone were three terrible words; _RIP__ Spongebob__ Squarepants_.

"No…that's…th-that's not gonna happen," stammered Spongebob.

Then, a one-eyed head popped up from the grave.

"Hi, Spongebob, I'm a Cyclops!" exclaimed Patrick.

Spongebob screamed, and stepped back. Unfortunately, there was nowhere _to_ step back onto, and he slipped. Down he fell, into the unknown abyss…into the Underworld.

* * *

><p>I heart cliffhangers.<p> 


	19. 19 10 11: Lady Liberty

Those of you who check out Disney Parodies might remember this from the Scene Hash thread, although it's been reworked. It's based on a game of Civilization IV I played last year.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** ...does this mean I have to have another witch!DP next year? :P Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you liked it. Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>1910/11 – Lady Liberty**

_In 1744, a colossal statue was erected in the harbour in Edinburgh. It was the work of a team of Britain's best artists, representing the newfound liberties of the people gained in the reforms of the early eighteenth century, and it cost more then £10,000. It was called the 'Statue of Liberty'._

_Immediately, rumours began to fly throughout the country. While most believed that the statue was a manmade achievement, some suggested that it was the work of alchemy and magic. Prime Minister Churchill vigorously denied such rumours, calling them 'overblown'. He followed that up by stating that these claims were 'an insult to our fine sculptors.'_

_The rumours never died down, and it is still a popular supernatural story today. It was famously backed up by a soldier in the British Army, who claimed that his father (also a soldier) had told him the tale of how it was made. The story has since been mangled by word of mouth, but here, it is presented in its original form._

* * *

><p>Long ago, prior to the First Mongolian War, there lived a young girl named Dani. She lived alone with her father, John Fenton-Nightingale <em>(this <em>_man __is __believed __to __have __been __the __ancestor __of __Dr. __Jack __Fenton__ PhD, __chief __biologist __of__ the__ Alpha __Centauri __Mission)_, who was witchfinder-general in the hamlet in which they lived.

The family lived a peaceful life. Their hamlet was close to the city of Wonsun, a Korean city captured by the Mongols a thousand years ago. Wonsun provided the villagers of nearby hamlets with a place to sell their produce, providing them with excellent living standards.

Alas, hard times came.

When Dani was a girl of twelve _(1695)_, war broke out between the Mongols and the British. The Mongol Army was mobilised, and John was called up to fight. Dani was left alone, although the mayor of her hamlet was generous enough to provide her with supplies to make a living.

Mongol forces fell upon the British city of Newcastle (_taken __five__ years__ prior __from__ the__ Koreans)_and placed it under siege. To cut off their supply lines, the British High Command charged Lord George 'Butcher' Popham to lead an attack through the mountains through New Sarai, and up to Wonsun.

As the British advanced through the mountains, hamlets and villages were evacuated and burned by the Mongol Army to prevent the British from using them as shelter. In revenge, Popham ordered his troops to kill any Mongol they found, regardless of whether or not they were civilians or soldiers. In this atmosphere of brutality and cruelty, the redcoats neared Wonsun.

A detachment of British troops soon fell on Dani's hamlet and pillaged it. They burnt crops, destroyed houses and killed the locals en masse. Dani only survived by hiding in her cellar, paralysed by terror, until the British had left.

Shortly after, a second unit of redcoats entered the wrecked hamlet, ordered by Popham to ensure that no-one was still alive. Private Timothy Turner came upon Dani in her cellar, and in a show of humanity, returned to his commanding officer and claimed that he had found no-one.

The siege of Wonsun lasted six months, but Timmy visited Dani daily. When the siege ended, and the Mongols signed a peace treaty, Timmy's unit was sent to hold Wonsun against local unrest. He took Dani with him, claiming that she was his sister and that because of that she was allowed to live with the unit in the castle fortifications of the town.

Timmy was posted to Wonsun for fifteen years. During this time, the first of the national reforms began. Mongols and Koreans were now considered eligible for citizenship in the British Empire – Popham resigned in disgust. There was still a long way to go before they were considered equal, however – Mongols and Koreans could not hold public office, nor could they vote or join the military.

Many of the soldiers stationed in lands taken from Mongolia and Korea had grown to oppose this rule, forming the 'British Soldiers Against Racial Discrimination' group. Timmy, now a lieutenant, was a member of this group, and this inevitably attracted the attention of military authorities.

In 1710, BSARD was banned by the government.

Almost immediately, Timmy was arrested by the Military Police and was taken to London to stand trial with eight other members of the organisation. Dani followed, and joined protesters outside the High Court.

Unnerved by the riots, the government charged Captain Alden Bitterroot with making an example of the rioters. In a now infamous show of strength, thirty cavalrymen under Captain Bitterroot's command _(although __many __have__ argued __against__ his __actual__ involvement)_ charged the protesters, killing twenty, injuring one hundred and arresting fifty.

Dani was one of the arrested, and was taken to the Tower for a private treason trial. Overseen by Bitterroot and Popham (now Chancellor of the Exchequer), she was found guilty and left to Bitterroot's devices.

_(This much is known to be true – a Lieutenant Timothy Turner was a defendant at the London Trials, and a Danielle Fenton-Nightingale was arrested by the cavalry. It's what happens next that is usually attributed to superstition.)_

Bitterroot was a prominent warlock of the London Warlock's Society _(this__ actually __existed, __but__ was __banned__ in __1800)_ and was involved in an illegal trans-Atlantic trade with the Zulu Nation _(the__ Zulus __and __British __were __at __war__ at __the __time, __the __British __having__ supported__ the __Russians __in __a __land-grab __war)_. King Shaka of the Zulu liked to steal treasures from his enemies for display in a grand museum he was planning to establish. He was willing to pay a lot of money for a British one.

Bitterroot had decided to send Shaka Zulu a statue, and a huge one at that, but he was hindered by the fact that the British weren't going to build one any time soon. Therefore, he decided to use dark magic to turn one of the treason defendants into a statue for the exchange. Shaka wouldn't ask any questions, and Bitterroot would get a large amount of money.

In what we are told were 'ghoulish practises', Bitterroot mixed a potion to do the task, and selected Dani as his victim. The transformation was forced near the coast, witnessed by a small section of British dragoons guarding the site.

Dani was forced to drink at least two litres of the foul-tasting potion, and then locked into the desired position by the dark magic. The transformation took effect over two days, and was likely to have been a torturous experience. After these two days, she had been converted to copper and scaled accordingly.

_(It should be noted that modern historians have called this story ridiculous, but it still has a heavy following among the public.)_

Whether or not Shaka would have liked his gift is not known, as Bitterroot was arrested the next day for his use of cavalry against unarmed civilians. He was found guilty of manslaughter, and his trial exposed much of the corruption in the British officer corps. On the same day of his judgement, the BSARD verdict was announced as follows;

LT. TIMOTHY TURNER – Acquitted.

SGT. DALES DIMM – Acquitted.

LT. COL. VLADIMIR MASTERS II – Two Months Imprisonment for lying to the court.

CPT. JERAMIAH FINSTER – Acquitted.

MAJ. JOSEPH NEUTRON – Acquitted.

SGT. ZACHARIAH PICKLES – Six Months Imprisonment for libel. _(He__ was __a __war __correspondent.)_

CPL. FLINT MANSON – Two Weeks Imprisonment for insubordination.

SGT. WILLIAM FOLEY – Acquitted.

2ND LT. JOHN SHAW – Acquitted.

In short, almost all were let off or given token sentences, largely due to public anger at their arrests. The trial and its result are considered a landmark of liberalism.

Dani was discovered shortly after, and was placed into storage until someone could be found to claim ownership of the 'statue'. Timmy was called, and it was eventually agreed that Bitterroot's statue _(it is unlikely that Timmy knew what it actually was)_ should be displayed in the Edinburgh harbour. The intent was to have a material display of the ongoing reforms, which were now really starting in earnest.

It took a while, but the final anti-racist acts were passed in 1743, and the statue erected one year later.

_It should be noted that the current Fenton family (specifically Jack Fenton) is of the belief that this is true, and is currently challenging the descendants of the Bitterroots, the Crockers, for compensation._

* * *

><p>I did try to write something new tonight, but after two hours of screen-staring I realised it wasn't happening. Tomorrow, though, certainly.<p> 


	20. 20 10 11: Insano Rides Again

WARNING: The following chapter contains a mad Nazi voiced by Nolan North and everyone's favourite Weapon of Mass Distraction. Also, it's been exactle a year since the invention of said WMD, and I decided to commemorate that...

Review Replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Alright, mission accepted. Hopefully, I can remember that next year... Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Nice to see interest, because I'm considering doing an anthology like this. I have to actually _play_ Civ IV again to make it, though... Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** Crazy like a fox! Thanks for the review.

* * *

><p><strong>2010/11 – Insano Rides Again**

To him, it had seemed a good career change.

To become the guard on the world-famous train, the _Ghan_, was certainly a leap forward from driving cheap buses from Melbourne to Sydney. The pay was better, he got a nice apartment in Adelaide and he didn't have to worry about the crazies Australia's biggest cities seemed to attract.

"Ah, salutations! One for Darwin!"

The ex-bus driver glanced at his new, spiral-goggled passenger, and he cried.

* * *

><p>Squidward pretended not to listen to the mad doctor he just happened to be sharing a cabin with and mentally cursed his terrible luck.<p>

"As you may know," Insano was saying, pacing up and down the (cramped) cabin, "It's been a year since I first built the Fiddley Thing."

"Uh-huh."

"Now, I've been testing it since then, and after a little escapade with your friends that _will__never__be__mentioned__again_, I've taken the next step."

"Uh-huh."

"Behold – the Fiddley Thing Mark II!" exclaimed Insano.

He produced a small, black scientific calculator, with the usual buttons replaced with a variety of (mostly incomprehensible) letters and numbers.

"It's powered by a combination of phleboltnium, handwavium and ground-up green rocks," explained Insano, "Also, small traces of soy beans."

"Do you have a point?" groaned Squidward.

"Yes!" exclaimed Insano, "With this new device, I could essentially become _a__God!_"

He began to laugh maniacally.

"Oh, please," sneered Squidward, "If you're a god, then I'm Picasso."

"You are?" quizzed Insano.

Squidward groaned.

* * *

><p>Dr. Insano strode merrily down the train, looking for a test-subject for his device. He was resolved to try the dining car – after all, people needed to eat, and it provided eating materials.<p>

He booted open the door to the dining car.

"People of the eatery!" he boomed, "I am here to…wha?"

Standing in the carriage, carrying his own device, was another mad scientist. This man wore the uniform of a German officer in WWII, with a swastika armband on his arm. He had a crazed glint in his eye. Insano recognised this man immediately.

"Dr. Edward Richtofen!" he thundered, pointing at the other man.

"Ja," nodded Richtofen, brightly, "Unt you are?"

"I am Doctor Insano!" boomed Insano, "And this is my turf! Find your own guinea pigs!"

"Was? Nein!" snapped Richtofen, "I vas here first! Go find somevhere else to bathe in blood!"

Insano blinked.

"You are seriously messed up," he exclaimed.

"Ja, thank you," grinned Richtofen.

"Well, there's only one way to solve this," sneered Insano, "We're going to have to have…a mad science fight!"

"A mad science fight? _Joy!_" exclaimed Richtofen.

Insano backed up, disturbed.

"Ok…on the count of three," he nodded, "Three…two…one…_LET__ SCIENCE __COMMENCE!__"_

Insano aimed the Fiddley Think Mk. II at Richtofen and pressed a button. A beam of energy shot from the device, which the insane German dodged. The beam went careening into Moe Syzlak, who took the full brunt of the blast. He was immediately changed into a talking pie.

"Yeah, I deserve that," he sighed.

"You can bend reality," noted Richtofen, "Wunderbar…but it von't save you from my _zombiefier!_"

He pulled out what looked like a modified Luger and shot the man behind the counter – he was immediately turned into a zombie, and began to shuffle towards Insano.

"Oh, come on!" snapped Insano, "You never had that in canon!"

"Ja, I cheated," shrugged Richtofen.

The zombie shuffled towards Insano, groaning loudly as it did so. Insano responded by pulling a sword out of his coat and impaling it.

"I can cheat too, douchebag!" retorted Insano.

"Nein!" cried Richtofen, "You caused it pain! _I__'__M__ SUPPOSED __TO __CAUSE __IT __PAIN!_"

He threw the zombiefier away and pulled out a red ray gun.

"_TASTE__ MY __RAY __GUN,__ SPIRALLY__ VUN!__"_ he thundered.

He paused for a second.

"…I think it tastes like beef jerky."

Then he opened fire.

Insano ran down the train screaming as Richtofen followed, firing wildly in his direction. He didn't hit his charge, but twelve people were injured and a porter fell out the window.

"_I __LUFF__ YOUR __SCREAMS, __INSANO!__"_ bellowed Richtofen, laughing madly, "_THEY__REMIND__ME__OF__DEMPSEY!_"

Insano ducked into a compartment as Richtofen fired his last round.

"NO! I'm _out__ of __ammo!_" gasped Richtofen.

"Good, that'll buy time for me to pull something out of my ass," hissed Insano.

"Not you _again._"

Insano looked up. Spongebob and Sandy were sitting in the compartment, the latter looking more irritated then anything else.

"Oh, hi there," greeted Insano, "I'm having an immature fight with a mad Nazi – want to join in?"

"No," deadpanned Sandy.

"Well volunteered!" grinned Insano, "Now, we're going to need a rope, a string, and a stick of cotton…"

"Not so fast, Herr Doctor!"

Richtofen stormed into the room, holding Squidward as a human shield.

"If you try anything," he snapped, holding _another_ gun at his head, "I vill turn his skull to paste…_and__then__I__will__drink__the__paste!_ Ooh, that'd be tasty."

"Somebody get me away from this freak!" demanded Squidward.

Insano blinked.

"So?" he shrugged, "I don't care about him."

"Okay," replied Richtofen, shoving Squidward away, "I'll just shoot you instead."

"Oh yeah?" snapped Insano, "You forget – I have all the powers of a _god!_"

He slammed his fist onto the Fiddley Thing Mk. II.

Sandy slammed her head into her palm as there was a glow of light…

* * *

><p>Several hours later, the train finally returned to stable reality, and Insano, Richtofen and Squidward were unceremoniously thrown off the train.<p>

As it got going again, Spongebob and Sandy returned to their cabin.

"I wonder why Insano always goes on vacation the same time we do?" mused Spongebob.

"I dunno," shrugged Sandy.

She glanced at the seat.

"Hey, Insano left the new Fiddley Thing on the seat," she noticed, "Kinda dumb to just drop something so powerful…"

A thoughtful look crossed her face,

"Hey, Spongebob," she said, "When we get home, you wanna help me out in the lab…"

* * *

><p>Well, it's not the 21st yet, but I'll release this week's word now, because why not. This is the last one, and it is; <strong>Magic<strong> (snort snort). Have fun!


	21. 21 10 11: Murdered By Moonlight

Well, I want you to remember - you asked for this. :P It's deliberate;y vague, due to my lack of knowledge of the source material, though, so I apolosige about that.

Review replies;

**aslan333:** Uh, yeah, I know you think I'm strange, can you please stop telling me that? :\

**Cartoonatic55:** That comment made _my_ day! :D Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for reviewing!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yes...Yes..._soon the whole world will watch Atop the Fourth Wall! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_yes. Thanks for the review.

* * *

><p><strong>2110/11 – Murdered By Moonlight**

_Crime Scene – 21st West Nolan Street, Cartoon City  
>Reporting Officer: P. Springwater<em>

_The body of a dead teenager, Dashiel Baxter, found in his bed. By the looks of it, the teenager was beaten to death with a large, heavy object. Images of the incident were not leaked to the press due to the brutality of the incident._

_I'm classing this as murder, but there are no clues pointing to any suspects._

Football player and A-lister, Dash had believed himself to be untouchable. He lived the high life – everything he every wanted, he got.

Who would've known that he'd end up accused of cheating in the final game of the series?

Who could have foreseen an enraged crowd – including his own team-mates – converging on the boy with any hard object they could find?

Who could have foreseen his dismal end, bludgeoned at the hands of those he thought were his devoted admirers, lead by some disfigured guy with a hat and funny gloves?

Who could have foreseen that a death in a dream could have transferred to reality?

* * *

><p><em><span>Crime<span> Scene – 233rd Main Street, Cartoon City  
>Reporting Officer: P. Springwater<em>

_Like yesterday's Baxter case, Trixie Tang was found in her bed, murdered. I've only been an officer for eighteen months, but this is some of the worst crap I've ever seen on the beat. The body is, for lack of a better word, cut to shreds, and there's also a lot of bruising._

_The coroner's checked for signs of…foul play, however, and he's said there's none._

The officers who found the remains of Trixie Tang could not find any evidence as to a murderer. That was no fault of their own – there wasn't anything to find.

They could never have known that she had died on-stage, begging for help, torn up by the vile man and his copies. They could never have seen the terrible work of knives on flesh, as the murderer commented on internal organs as if they were fashion accessories.

No-one would ever know of her other side, her double-life as the tomboyish comic nerd. Perhaps if they had, if she had shown her true self, more people would have come to the funeral.

* * *

><p><em><span>Crime<span>Scene – 742nd Evergreen Terrace, Cartoon City  
>Reporting Officer: P. Springwater<em>

_I'm calling this in as a serial killer._

_Bartholomew J. Simpson has been found dead in his bed. His body was riddled with bullet holes but no bullets. The coroner says that they look like 9mm rounds. He's said that that narrows it down to nearly every readily available pistol around._

_We need to start a manhunt._

What Officer Penelope Springwater didn't know was that a manhunt wouldn't work against someone who existed only in dreams.

Bart Simpson had always been the troublemaker, the delinquent, what have you. His dream had involved a hit on one Seymour Skinner by the Mafia – he had been hit-man.

Imagine his surprise when he returned after the job, and Don Freddy informed him that there was no longer a use for him? Imagine how he must have felt as he was dragged into the basement, as the Don pulled out an MP40 and laughed as he took aim.

Imagine what he thought as he was gunned down. Maybe he pondered the similarities of his predicament with a movie he'd seen.

* * *

><p><em><span>Crime<span>Scene – 90th Jung Street, Cartoon City  
>Reporting Officer: P. Springwater<em>

_I'm requesting leave._

_We found another body this morning, a boy named James Isaac Neutron. He's…not even recognisable as a god-damn corpse. It's just…I don't even want to describe it._

_Just…I can't do this anymore._

The police were struck by flak from the press over the murders – but not quite in the way Jimmy was in his dream.

The shells had collided with the Avro Lancaster carrying an experimental bomb of his own design. The engines exploded, and as the plane went down, it was peppered by fire from Luftwaffe aircraft.

Jimmy had run for a parachute, only to find his bomb-aimer, flight officer Krueger, throwing them all over the side. He had winked and jumped out, just as the fuel ignited.

Jimmy had fallen to earth in a burning, twisting coffin, screaming all the way.

* * *

><p><strong>POLICE OFFICER FOUND DEAD!<br>_Chief __Refused__ To__ Make__ Comment_**

Officer Penelope Springwater died in her sleep last night – a nasty, bloody death caused by deep cuts in her skin. The coroner has reported that the cuts correspond to knives…

_Pictures Pg. 2._

* * *

><p>(Immediately watches the Happy Days Theme.)<p> 


	22. 22 10 11: Okay

My computer has decided to sulk and do nothing, and will have to go for repairs, so only a short one today. Who's perspective is this? You decide!

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** 'Tis catchy. :P Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** As is supposed to be. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you liked it! Thanks for the review.

* * *

><p><strong>2210/11 – Okay**

Sometimes, when I'm feeling blue,  
>And I don't know what I should do,<br>I just sit down and think of you,  
>And everything's okay.<p>

When I'm feeling pretty sad,  
>I think about the luck I had,<br>To make the friends that make me glad,  
>And everything okay.<p>

Even twelve thousand miles from home,  
>Feeling more useless then the Dome,<br>I think of you and feel at home,  
>And everything's okay.<p>

I've been to London and Vienna too,  
>From Gare de Nord to Waterloo,<br>But all the time I think of you,  
>And everything's okay.<p>

From Australia to Bangor,  
>You've been behind me all the more,<br>I hope for you, forevermore,  
>That everything's okay.<p> 


	23. 23 10 11: Target

Don't have much to say here, so...yes.

Review replies;

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Close, but the Dome I'm referring to is London's Millenium Dome. :) Thanks for reading!

**aslan333:** Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55:** I'm sure we can fix it. :) Thanks for the review.

**Third Kind:** Don't beat yourself up. :) I'm sure your poems are great. Thanks very much!

**agentscia:** Glad you liked it! Thanks.

* * *

><p><strong>2310/11 – Target**

The man crept through the attic of the deserted building, cradling the weapon and breathing heavily. He was headed for a window – soon to be his nest.

_8.57mm. Five rounds. Bolt-action._

Arriving at the window, he lay down and checked his weapon, making sure everything was working.

_Telescopic sight. Effective to 800m._

He watched over the town square as a cavalcade of vehicles puttered into view behind the police barricades. Amidst cheers and applause, they drew to a halt before City Hall.

They soon emptied. They were the biggest of the big – the mayor, all of his cabinet, the Governor...and _him._

The man gritted his teeth.

_Daniel Fenton alias Danny Phantom. Age sixteen. Half human/half-ghost._

The man waited as the group stepped up the stairs to the podium on City Hall. The cheers continued for a moment before the Governor began on one of his famous long-winded speeches.

He knew this one. He'd recovered a transcript. Always the dramatic, he planned carefully – waiting for _just_ the right moment...

_Relish the moment, Fenton._

The minutes seemed to pass like hours. The man began to sweat.

He knew there was no way out, of course. US Marines guarded the vicinity – once the shot was seen, they'd be all over his position. He was not afraid of the consequences.

What he _was_ afraid of was being discovered before the right moment.

_Come on, you fat ignoramus. Say the words..._

"...providing security for the entire world," the Governor said.

The man grinned devilishly, and loaded the bolt on the rifle.

"I think I speak for all of us," the Governor went on, "When I say that we are headed for a bright future..."

_Showtime._

The man squeezed the trigger.

Danny Fenton's head snapped back as he was knocked of his feet. A split second later, the Governor clutched his heart and fell face-first to the ground. The crowd began to scream and panic.

_Hmm. It must have ricocheted. Oh well._

A man with a radio pointed at the man and barked orders into the device.

The man dropped the rifle and pulled a pistol out of his coat. He crawled over to a metal box just behind the window and waited.

The door burst open.

_And now, the Grand Finale..._

The man fired an aimed shot, and a Marine began to fall, clutching his arm. The man quickly pulled the trigger again, and the Marine gurgled as his throat was hit.

"Nail that son of a b***h, goddamn it!"

"Flashbang out!"

The man was blinded as a great white flash filled his eyes, and his ears rang as a massive boom filled his eardrums. He yelped and fell over, blindly firing his pistol.

_Well, the show is over._

The man's vision returned, and he saw the barrel of an assault rifle aimed at his face.

_Thank you and goodnight._

There was a bang, and Freakshow knew no more.

* * *

><p>Let's face it - he's mad enough to do it.<p> 


	24. 24 10 11: SquidRiffs: Blue Moon

_Blue Moooooon...you saw me standing aloooone..._

**Cartoonatic55:** I'm really bad at picking out little errors like that, sorry. :[ Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** He's crazy like a crazy person. :| Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** It would be him, in the end. :nod: Thanks for the review!

**OwlheadAthena:** He does, but it doesn't make it right. :\ Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I was hoping I could keep him both vague and IC. :] Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>2410/11 – SquidRiffs: Blue Moon**

_A very fishy story; by KoriCarrigan._

_CHAPTER 1_

It was now 8:00 pm and Danny, Sam, and Tucker were riding the calm flow of waves **Who goes sailing at 8pm?** that took them farther and farther away from there homes in amity park, California. **Since when was Amity Park in California? Heck, and what're they 'riding the waves' on? Are they swimming?** The farther out they went, the closer they got to Cali Island. **Is that better then Clarinet Island?**

The trio had been friends since they first met in pre school. Samantha( you have to call her Sam or you will be living in the ER **Estonian Republic?**) Manson was the only one of the three that was a girl.** We hadn't noticed.** She had midnight black hair **as opposed to regular black hair** that went a bit above her shoulders, and she had beautiful violet eyes.** I bet they're contacts.** She was a beautiful sixteen year old. She was an ultra-recyclo vegetarian and she was a goth **and she was a girl and she did things**. She LOATHED **my eardrums** the color pink, but that didn't stop her parents from trying to get her to wear fluffy, frilly pink dresses. She is also very rich, but she doesn't go around telling people because she didn't want friends for how loaded she was, but for the true self. **Why did the tense suddenly change?**

Daniel " Danny" Fenton is one of the other** (?)** two boys in the group.** ...but Sam's not a girl.** He was also sixteen years old. His jet black hair** So it's not midnight black then?** and ice blue eyes make him handsom, but is still treated like a loser for hanging with Sam and Tucker, not to mention his crazy family ( a/n: all will be explained in chapter 2).** Why explain? We already know these things?** He has a great personality and is a really cool teenager if you get to know him.

Tucker Foley is an African- American boy that is obsessed with two major things: technology and meat. **This will be his single characteristic in all fanfics ever.** Unlike Sam, he was a full out meat lover and could sniff out about every kind of meat known to man. He was also teased for being a techno- geek. His PDA never leaves his side, not to mention the other six he keeps at home.** How does he afford these things?** He was the one operating the tiny motor boat.

The trio were laughing** at the tense change**, enjoying the breeze. Before they new it, the brightly shining full moon had replaced the firey sun. **But it was night-time already!** Then, their fun was disrupted by a stuttering sound coming from the motor, and the boat stopped.

"what's going on, tuck?" Danny asked the techno geek**, because he's expected to know all these things**.

"the engines fried and we ran out of fuel. Plus, its starting to thunder.' Tucker replied.** How did you not notice the incoming storm, you dunderheads?**

" guys, we can swim under the water and take shelter in a cave from Cali Island." Sam replied.** ...and you have to be underwater **_**because...**_ And with that, she dived in. Danny and Tucker hesitated** because this was an idiotic idea**, but dived in afterward. They followed her all the way until they** drowned** reached the opening. As the** they** reached the surface of the cave, they took in a big breath. They studied there surroundings as the **THEY** continued to breathe in as much air as they could. It was a small cave made of rock** as opposed to grass**. A circular pool of water was in the middle of it (what they were swimming in).** Then how did they get in there?** directly over it was an opening, giving a great view of the night sky. It was a beautiful sight._**What happened to the storm?**_ Tucker climed out of the pool first, followed by Danny. Before Sam could climb out, the moon was in full view as the pool began to bubble.** Well, I **_**do**_** like a bubble bath...** Sam was speechless** as opposed to screaming in terror**, especially when she looked up to see a purple moon.** It should have been a blue moon. Then you could have Frank Sinatra.** She could tell that her friends saw it to from there shocked expressions. As fast as the bubbling water came, it vanished, followed by the moon returning to its natural white.** It's not white, it's light yellow.**

Sam was so shocked that she couldn't move.** Oh no. A coloured moon. Oh dearie me.** The 2 boys pulled her out and by then she went out of her state of shocked** and went to Hawaii instead**. When the storm stopped about a half an hour later **oh, so the storm came back, did it?**, they left the cave and went to the beach about 2 miles away. **You can't just **_**walk**_** two miles!** When they got there, they saw brightly flashing lights.

" this is the California Ocean Patrol. Make your way to the boat." A voice boomed. And so they did. **Yaaaaaay.**

* * *

><p>...<em>without a dream in my heeeaaaart...without a love of my owwwwwwn...<em>


	25. 25 10 11: The Hunters

The following story should not, under any circumstances, be read by children or the easily offended. Please, if there are any kids with you right now, do not let them read it. Thank you.

Review replies;

**Movie-Brat:** Actually, I had not seen AT4W yet, thanks for spoiling it. }:| In addition, I have noticed that you only comment on this story when you want me to do something - I am fine with people making requests, but that's all you do. You are my friend and I'm not infuriated or anything, but can you try not to be so demanding? Thanks.

**Cartoonatic55:** It could have been...but sadly, it gets worse as it goes along. I would have done more, but...I have plans. :P Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yeah, that's what I thought, to. Though one person claimed it was in Oregon... :\ Thanks for reviewing!

**Dimentio713:** I don't think I was supposed to be scary, but it still failed in whatever it was aiming for. :| Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I'll try to write 'em more often, then. :] Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>2510/11 – The Hunters**

They came at night. Every time, they came at night.

They would stride down the street in their antique uniforms, outdated weapons freely displayed, and no-one would ever notice them bar their victim. They would locate their target, and they would deal with them with extreme prejudice. None would ever be spared.

They were the damned of the worst battles – the Somme, Ypres, Verdun, Gallipoli. They were the ghosts of the past, sent to clean up the mess of the present. For better or worse, they would answer any summon, and carry out their orders to the maximum effect.

They were the Hunters.

* * *

><p>Dib Membrane locked his apartment and strode outside. It was dark over the city – there was no moon, and no stars. The streetlamps were out – a blackout seemed to have struck.<p>

He pressed his hands into his pockets and began to walk. Where, he didn't know. Gaz had kicked him out (again) and the only other person he knew was Zim. There was no way he was going to _his_ house.

He sighed, his breath foggy in the cold night air. It was strange for it to be so cold in the middle of July, but not unprecedented in this part of the country.

He stopped, and looked around.

He had walked into a dark, misty alleyway. Where had the mist come from? It looked like a sea mist, but he was nowhere near the ocean. And where had the stars gone? Why were the streets so empty on Friday night?

He listened. He could hear the distant thunder of gunfire and explosions, but there was no sign of any battle nearby.

He felt his coat for his camera, only to find that it was gone.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

Looking down the alley, he could see three figures emerging from the fog.

Two of the figures wore dirty combat fatigues. The one on the left was wearing blue with red trousers. His uniform seemed too bright and very old fashioned. It contrasted his sunken eyes and wrinkled skin. A filthy blue kepi sat on his head.

The one on the right looked much more practical. He wore a grey uniform, which was extremely utilitarian. His helmet was large with painted camouflage, and bolts attached to either side. He too had sunken eyes and wrinkled skin, but he also possessed a nasty gash on his right cheek.

The middle figure was the most striking. He wore what might once have been a smart, khaki uniform, were it not for the dried mud and grime. Over this uniform he wore a greatcoat. His head was covered with a brimmed helmet with a tan cover. He looked younger than his companions, with pale skin and smooth features.

"Dib Membrane," the officer stated.

Dib raised an eyebrow.

"You know my name?" he quizzed.

"That I do," nodded the Officer, "Gentlemen."

The two soldiers quickly marched up to Dib, and grabbed him firmly by the arms. Dib shouted and tried to escape their grip, but his efforts were useless.

The Officer pulled out a stained sheet of paper, and began to read it.

"Dib Membrane," he read, "By the declarations of Fate and Destiny, we are under orders to charge you for your transgressions against history, morality and mankind."

"But I haven't done anything!" exclaimed Dib, trying to wriggle free again.

"You are sentenced under the following charges," the Officer continued, ignoring him, "Multiple counts of attempted murder against one Invader Zim..."

"...He brought it on himself!"

"...destruction of public property..."

"That was collateral damage!"

"...and wasting the time of innumerable people."

"..._wasting time? _You wanna book me for _wasting time?_"

The officer raised his hand.

"That's three counts," he nodded, "We should mark that down."

He pulled a knife from his greatcoat. Dib squirmed, and tried even harder to break free.

Calmly, the Officer held the knife over Dib's left arm and began to carve.

He ignored the screams of agony from his charge, whistling 'It's A Long Way To Tipperary' to drown them out. After a minute of cutting, he finished his work.

Dib breathed and bit his lip, the sting on his arm almost unbearable. He glanced down at the Officer's handiwork – three lines were neatly cut into his skin.

"Now," said the Officer, "On to your punishment."

"Punishment?" gulped Dib. He had thought that that _was_ the punishment.

"First of all, wasting time," mused the Officer, "Do you know how many people have had their minutes taken listening to your conspiracy theories? That's theft of time, you know."

He looked at his watch.

"Added up, you've stolen forty days worth of time from your father and sister alone," he stated, matter-of-factly, "In all, converted to blood, I'd say that's worth...a hand."

He smirked at Dib as the investigator turned pale.

"Hold up his left hand, please," he asked.

The grey-uniformed soldier raised Dib's hand. The Officer nodded his thanks and prepared his knife.

"No," gulped Dib, "I...don't...no..."

The Officer lowered the knife in a lightning fast slash.

Dib screamed, but his hand did not fall. A deep cut was opened on his wrist, but his hand was still attached.

The Officer shook his head, as if he was trying to fix a cabinet, and hacked again...and again...and again...and again.

At last, it was nearly over. Dib screamed one more time as the last of his bone was cut through, and the mangled hand hung loosely from his arm.

The Officer put a hand on his hip.

"Are...are you done?" wheezed Dib.

The Officer shook his head.

"No use wasting a blade on this last bit," he decided, putting down the knife.

Dib's eyes widened in horror as he realised what was about to come next.

The officer grabbed his mutilated hand and began to pull.

Dib's agonized wail echoed down the alleyway for all of the ninety seconds it took for the Officer to rip off his hand. All the while, the Officer continued his work, whistling again. At long last, the hand fell, and a gush of blood washed over the concrete.

"Charming," deadpanned the Officer, "Now, onto the next count; destruction of public property."

Dib, now in utter pain, could only mumble an inaudible response.

"I feel for the poor workmen, you know," sighed the Officer, "Every time you break something in your little fights with Zim, they have to fix it. Time and time again. Evidently, you don't care, either."

He reached into his greatcoat again, removing a revolver.

"If you're hoping for relief, you'll find none here," he explained, "The gun is empty."

He looked it over as if it was a work of art.

"A Webley revolver," he announced, "A classic revolver design. She uses six .445 bullets, and when unloaded, she weighs thirty-eight ounces."

He grinned.

"So when unloaded...she makes a lovely club."

He flipped the revolver, the barrel landing neatly in his hand. He approached Dib, brushed away his hair...and he began to club.

Dib could not even scream this time, as the heavy grip of the gun smashed into his mouth. He just shut his eyes and mentally prayed for a release from the agony. All he could hear was the swishing gun, and the Officer's cheerful whistling.

At last, the Officer was done.

Dib's face was, to put it simply, an unrecognisable pulp. He could only open one eye – the other was in so much pain he wondered if it was even still an eyeball. Most of his teeth had been knocked out and his nose was crushed.

"Well, he was ugly to begin with," shrugged the Officer.

He crossed his arms.

"The final charge – attempted murder," he sniffed, "Taking another life – the worst of all sins. Luckily for you, you've never actually killed anyone...but that does not exempt you from punishment."

He reached into his coat one more time, and pulled out a gasmask, slipping it on. He then pulled out a canister that looked far too large to fit into the greatcoat's pockets.

"Death will come for you, my boy," he warned, "But it will be a long time yet."

He opened the canister, and it began to hiss.

"That is your punishment," finished the Officer.

Dib blacked out.

* * *

><p>Dr. Hibbert walked out of the operating room, confronting Professor Membrane and Gaz in the waiting room.<p>

"What is it?" demanded Professor Membrane, "You are distracting me from my inventions!"

"Your son is in that room, Professor," replied Hibbert, somewhat harshly, "He was mugged last night."

Professor Membrane shut up, his face turning white. Gaz tilted her head, looking vaguely interested.

"His left hand has been severed," explained Hibbert, "He's also been beaten heavily in the facial areas, and his system contains damage from an unidentified gas. While he will live, he's physically and mentally crippled – he'll probably never function properly again."

Membrane swallowed. Even Gaz looked horrified, or as close to horrified as she ever was.

"So...m-my son..."

"Your son is an invalid," snapped Hibbert, "You'd have known this if you'd answered my calls earlier."

Membrane fell back onto a chair, sweating.

Above the well-lit hospital, in the clear night sky, the full moon and the stars shone.

* * *

><p>Sweet dreams, everyone! :D<p> 


	26. 26 10 11: The Fright Begins

...and then _the fright began!_ D:

Review replies;

**Dimentio713:** That is a good idea, yes. *evil laughter* Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** I like Dib, but he's fun to make suffer. :\ Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** Thanks for the review!

**Movie-Brat:** It's fine, I overreacted. :) Thanks very much!

**TweenisodeOrange:** I, on the other hand, never saw it coming. Never. Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, now I know that I'm effective at writing horror. Which to be honest is kind of scary.

* * *

><p><strong>2610/11 – The Fright Begins**

With a loud crash, Spongebob landed in a pile of bones conveniently placed to break his fall.

Climbing to his feet, he scratched his head and groaned.

"Next Halloween," he sighed, "I'm gonna stay in bed."

"Well, hello Spongebob."

Spongebob nearly jumped out of his skin. Danny, dressed in a well tailored tuxedo and a white mask, was standing before him, arms crossed.

"Danny!" gasped Spongebob, "You're the Phantom of the Opera!"

He paused.

"What exactly does the Phantom of the Opera do, anyway?"

Danny paused.

"Well, err, he's a...a guy who...err...he..."

Danny sighed.

"Just go through," he said.

Spongebob quickly ran past him.

He scurried along a narrow land bridge, molten lava burning below him. Spongebob had little time to wonder how molten lava appeared in North Eastern America, as four more figures appeared before him.

Cosmo and Wanda floated above, sharp teeth and bat-like wings attached to pale, rag-clad figures. Poof was behind them, wearing a tuxedo that would have been cute if it weren't for the evil look on his face. In front of him, Arnold was wearing a similar tux and a top hat.

"Is this Tuxedo Monday?" asked Spongebob, confused.

"No, Spongebob," said Cosmo and Wanda, with perfect timing, "We're faeries. With an 'E'."

Spongebob blinked.

"It's a mythological thing," they added.

"Oh," nodded Spongebob.

"It's just you and us, Spongebob," sneered Arnold, "Now you see us...now you don't."

There was a puff of smoke, and they were gone.

Two minutes later, they still hadn't come back, so Spongebob assumed it was safe to proceed.

Spongebob continued down the fiery path until he reached a platform. There was a single grave, alone and forgotten. Spongebob stopped to read the inscription.

_Here Lies Squidward's Hopes and Dreams._

"I knew that'd distract you," a metallic voice snarled.

Spongebob jumped again.

Jimmy was standing behind him, hovering above the ground with his jetpack. He had a metal plate over his left eye and a mechanical right arm. Behind him, Jenny was glaring at the sponge, fangs bared. She wore a white dress and necklace.

"Jimmy? Jenny?" gulped Spongebob.

"No," sneered Jimmy, "I am MechaJimmy."

"And I'm Jenny Bathory," added Jenny.

"And we're gonna be tearing you apart for the next _sixty minutes!_" finished Jimmy.

Jenny facepalmed.

"Now," continued Jimmy, "Prepare to meet your..."

He glanced at where Spongebob had been. The sponge was already moving on, leaving them behind.

"Yeah, this is why _I _should've been in charge," said Jenny.

* * *

><p>At last, Spongebob was nearing the Big Crypt at the centre of the graveyard. It was the deepest, scariest looking part of the chasm – but there was no going back, so it wasn't like he had a choice.<p>

Spongebob raced to the gloomy stone tomb and towards the door. He was about to open it when he heard a low cackle.

He turned around once more.

Eliza was standing behind him (evidentially, possessed demons were expert stealth-artists). She was wearing a stereotypical ringleader's outfit, top hat and all (it was definitely Tuxedo Monday, then.) Her red eyes shone menacingly behind her glasses, and she was holding a whip.

"...please don't whip me," gulped Spongebob, leaning against the door.

"Oh, don't worry, Spongebob," hissed Eliza (Spongebob shuddered), "_I'm_ not gonna hurt you at all. My pet, on the other hand..."

A furry creature with yellow eyes leapt out beside her master.

"_Sandy?_" gasped Spongebob.

Sandy was on all fours, snarling by Eliza's feet. Her fur was mangy and dirty, and her tail was straight and swishing forebodingly. At a guess, Spongebob would say she was a werewolf.

There was a series of bursts of purple smoke, and the other monsters appeared. All of them were prepared to attack – Timmy and Patrick at their lead. There was another burst of smoke, and the giant form of the Underworld King was glaring down on Spongebob.

"_You never had a chance, Squarepants!_" he laughed, "_I have your friends – I have your town – and I will soon have _your world!"

He cackled maniacally, thunderous laughter echoing throughout the chasm.

Then, quite suddenly, he took on his human form.

"So, if you got any last words, you should probably say them now," he warned.

Spongebob looked up. He blinked, and squinted his eyes.

"Well?" asked the Underworld King.

"Are those cars flying through the air towards us?" mused Spongebob.

The Underworld King blinked.

"Well, those are some weird last..."

The air was suddenly filled with the wail of a police siren, getting louder and louder.

The Undergrowth King looked behind him.

He screamed.

A squad car came crashing down on top of him, landing bonnet-first and rolling over before coming to a rest outside the crypt. Seconds later, a jeep landed on the same spot, resting in a small crater.

From the squad car, Henrrys and his partner, Harrison, crawled out unharmed. Henrrys loudly announced to all that could hear that Harrison was never driving again.

From the jeep, Simmonds and his partner, David, crawled out unharmed. Simmonds loudly announced to all that could hear that David was never driving again.

Spongebob and the monsters were silent, totally unsure of what to do.

Then the jeep flipped into the air, thrown by a very large and infuriated Underworld King.

"_Only _**I**_ may utilise the Car Fu!_" he thundered, _"Destroy these intruders!"_

The monsters bellowed a war cry and swarmed onto the unfortunate policemen. David and Simmonds took up fighting stances as they too came under attack.

"Twice!" exclaimed Simmonds, "In one bleeding night!"

The Underworld King sneered as he watched the fight, rubbing his chin.

"Now where was I?" he asked himself, "_Oh yes! You..._"

His eyes widened.

Spongebob was not there, and the door was open.

The Underworld King smashed through the wall of the crypt, just in time to see Spongebob dangling the last treasure, the Book of Death, over the sarcophagus. The bottle was held in his other hand.

"_No! Don't!_" screamed the Underworld King, "_Don't, or I'll..._"

"I'm not afraid of you," replied Spongebob, smirking.

He dropped the book.

The Underworld King froze as his aura began to fade.

"Oh, son of a..."

There was an explosion of light, and the Underworld King was pulled, screaming and wailing, back into his bottle prison. The sound of rumbling filled the air as the ground shook and moved. The whole world seemed to spin.

Then, all was calm, save for the moonlight pouring in from outside.

Spongebob smiled, and recorked the bottle.

He walked out of the crypt, finding the whole place deserted. It seemed to be late evening, and the shadows were long and dark. He wondered how long he'd been in that crypt. It had only seemed like a minute or so.

Spongebob looked at the bottle in his hand. It looked so innocent – there was no clue of the monster inside.

He glanced towards the end of the graveyard. There was a small forest, sloping downhill towards a small lake. A small smile tugged his lips.

He hurled the bottle into the forest, where it rolled down into the lake. There, it would sink to the bottom, never to be seen again.

"Hey, Spongebob!"

Spongebob heard a call in the wind, and turned around. Timmy was walking out of the shadows, looking every bit the normal ten-year-old boy.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, "That room ain't gonna decorate itself!"

"But wasn't..." Spongebob began.

Then it clicked. He was back where he'd begun. When he'd reimprisoned the Underworld King, time itself had reversed.

Or something.

"Spongebob," repeated Timmy, "You gone deaf or something?"

Spongebob sighed.

"Timmy," he replied, "Can we just go to the store tomorrow and buy some decorations? This place kinda freaks me out."

"Oh, come on!" snapped Timmy, "We..."

He looked at Spongebob's face, and softened. His roommate really did look uneasy...

"Alright, fine," he sighed, "But you're paying."

* * *

><p>Room 214 came second-last in the Haunted Room Contest, narrowly beating out Chester and AJ's room. With neither of them winning, their bets were forfeit, and everyone was happy. Except Timmy, Chester and AJ, because they didn't win.<p>

* * *

><p>And that's the end of the multi-parter. I hope you liked it. :)<p> 


	27. 27 10 11: The Hit List

It's nearly Halloween again...

Review replies;

**Dimentio713:** I understand...sort of. :\ I do sometimes write nice things, Dimentio. :D Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** No, silly, Bolbi won! :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Madness Abe:** Probably not, but maybe next year. :) Thanks for the review!

**aslan333:** Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** OH I DID IT AGAIN D: I'd also like Tuxedo Monday. It'd be even cooler then Casual Friday. Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, what's a comedy Halloween story without lampshades and cliches? :D ...and cars used as projectiles... :\ Anyway, thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>2710/11 – The Hit List**

_He ran down the hallway, looking at his watch. He had to get to the phone – lives were at stake, not just here, but across the entire multiverse._

_What a time to lose his cellphone, he cursed in his head._

_Skidding into his living room, he swept up the phone and frantically dialled a number…_

* * *

><p>It was a routine case – some idiot firebug had decided that it would be funny to light up someone's car. The first reporting officer had suspected arson and called it in.<p>

Detective Cole Phelps parked the car and got out, looking over the location of the crime.

"The Westlake Tar Pits," he said to himself, "Strange place for a car burning."

"It's a flammable car, and it was parked nearby," Herschel Biggs dryly replied as he stepped out of the car, "Firebugs aren't usually picky."

The detectives entered the crime scene and walked up to the vehicle.

It was a 1947 Oldsmobile S98 convertible, badly scorched by the flames that had consumed it. The tires had melted from the heat, and the engine was still smoking.

"Looks like it was a nice car," nodded Phelps.

"Probably stolen," added Biggs, frowning.

"Detectives!"

Officer Enrique Gonzales, a patrolman Phelps had encountered before, strode over to them, looking rather grim.

"Gonzales," nodded Phelps, "You're first reporting?"

"Yes, detectives," replied Gonzales, sounding rather shaken, "Um…I'm afraid the situation has changed."

"Changed?" demanded Biggs, "Changed how?"

"The coroner wants to see you."

A dark part of Phelps' mind wondered why he always ended up dealing with dead people.

Mal Carruthers was standing by the edge of the tar pits, kneeling. As Phelps approached him, he found what he was looking at and cringed.

There, stripped naked, beaten and coated in tar was the dead body of one of LA's richest men.

"Leland Monroe?" exclaimed Phelps.

"I don't think I need to tell you what happened here," nodded Mal, standing up, "I'll run an examination back at the morgue, but I can definitely the cause of death is drowning. Judging by the bruises on his shoulders, I'd say it wasn't an accident, either."

"Hell of a way to go, huh?"

"The Homicide guys are here," Biggs sighed.

Phelps turned. Stefan Bekowsky and Rusty Galloway had arrived on scene, and were just entering the police cordon.

"Stefan, Rusty," acknowledged Phelps.

"Christ, Cole," groaned Biggs, "Do you know _every_goddamn person in the LAPD?"

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Biggs," grinned Bekowsky.

Rusty looked over the body.

"So," he nodded, "We got a stiff. Any other evidence…"

"I'm not finished," replied Mal, striding over to the back of the car, "You're not going to like this, Cole."

He opened the trunk.

Cole's face paled in horror.

Nestled in the trunk was the burnt, bullet-ridden and bloodied corpse of Jack Kelso.

* * *

><p><em>No answer.<em>

"_Crap!" he cursed, and quickly punched in the next number._

* * *

><p>The phone rang, cutting into the darkness of the small room.<p>

The owner of the room was not available to hear the phone. He was slouched over the side of his bed, the sheets stained red and his back covered in bullet-holes. His eyes were glazed. He was dead.

The phone went over to the answering machine.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hello,<em>_ you__'__ve__ reached __the __mighty __residence __of __Jorgen __von __Strangle__…_"

_He winced at the beeping and tried again._

_Ringing. Beep. Machine._

_Ringing. Beep. Machine._

_Ringing. Beep. Machine._

"_Crap, crap!" he cursed again._

_He tried his last number._

* * *

><p>Dib was cornered in his room, the distinctive shape of an MP40 aimed at his face. He stared down his assailant, teeth clenched. In his pocket, his phone was ringing, but it made no difference.<p>

"I'm not telling you anything," he snarled, "I'm not afraid."

"We don't want information, Dib. We want you dead."

"Then what're you waiting for?" sniffed Dib, "I've already done my part."

He had, as far as he was concerned. He'd managed to warn SEN before they'd gotten in, and by buying time, ensured that Gaz had escaped.

"Goodnight, Dib."

* * *

><p><em>He listened to the sound of gunfire in sheer horror. Then the line cut out.<em>

_He__ swore.__ It __was __rare __that __he __really, _actually _swore, __but __he __did._

"_I've got to get to him before they do!"_

* * *

><p>Dr. Edward Richtofen aimed his Walther, sneering at his doomed adversary.<p>

"_Gut__t nacht_, mein friend," he snarled, "I look forward to hearing the sound of your screams. Zey vill be…" he squealed, "_Wunderbar!_"

He began to empty his clip on the poor man. He was up to his fourth shot when the door burst open behind him.

Richtofen turned and snarled.

"Oh, _you __just __HAD __to __interrupt __my __FUN!_" he yelled, "You vill pay for zis, in time."

He pressed a button on his wrist and disappeared.

Linkara lowered the Magic Gun and stared at the dead form of the one he'd come to protect. He knelt down, rummaging desperately through his pockets.

"It's gone!" he gasped, "The Fiddley Thing is gone!"

He stood up, backing away from Insano's body as he realised the gravity of what had happened.

"If _he_ gets it," he breathed, "We're all doomed."

* * *

><p>A bit much on the LA Noire side?<p> 


	28. 28 10 11: Protect and Survive Again

Another callback! I like callbacks! :D Incidentally, the footnotes are considered part of the story - they're a sane man analysing them.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Yawohl, mein friend. We're reached the ending 'arc', if you will. Thanks for reading!

**TweensodeOrange:** Well, of course, I'm the author. :P Also, LA Noire is a video game. It's sort of like, say, CSI in 1940s Los Angeles. It's fantastic. Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333:** Ja. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Okay, I'll keep that in mind. Yeah, Dib hasn't had a good year, has he? :\ All shall be revealed soon... Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>2810/11 – Protect and Survive…Again**

_Last year, the government release a PSA explaining the dangers of Eldritch Abominations. It was not very helpful._

_As the department has recently been informed of the theft of the Fiddley Thing, we've decided to try again._

_Remember…Protect and Survive._

* * *

><p><strong>The Fiddley Thing Explained<strong>

Fiddley Things are made by Insanos like Dr. Insano and Dr. Linksano. They are like ordinary things except many times fiddleier. They cause great disturbances in reality and the Force.

They can also cause warps in time and space. These are called; warps in time and space.

So these are the two dangers.

First – disturbances in reality and the Force, which is followed by – warps in space and time.

The disturbances in reality and the Force are so severe that they can change people, and melt buildings for up to five galaxies from their activation.

Warps in time and space are warps in time and space that are caused by the disturbances. They can be deadly dangerous. **[1]**They are sent deep into the timewarp, and can drift through hundreds of timelines before diminishing.

You can protect yourself and your family, and later on we will tell you what steps you should take. **[2]**

* * *

><p><strong>What to Do When the Warnings Sound [3]<strong>

Here is a reminder of what the Fiddley Thing Warning sounds like. This is the sound.

_Dr Insano Laughing Maniacally._

When you hear the Fiddley Thing warning, you and your family must take cover at once. Do not stay out of doors. **[4]**If you are caught in the open, lie down.

And now here is a reminder about Warp Warnings. When Warps are expected, you will here this:

_Let's do the time warp agaaaaaaaain!_

This sound indicates that warps in time and space are expected.

When you hear them, you must stay in the most temporally strong position in your house. Keep the door shut. **[5]**Do not go outside the house until you are told it is safe.

Here is the All Clear Warning.

_Excerpt of speech by Hitler._

When you hear this sound, you can leave your cover, but be sure to practice your goose-stepping.

* * *

><p><strong>Choosing a Warp Room<strong>

You must now choose a room in your home which is the most temporally strong.

If you live in a house, the safest place is the bathroom or attic. Choose a room with the smallest amount of space. The more tightly packed you are, the better you will be protected from warps in time and space. **[6]**

If you live in a block of flats which is more then five floors high, it is important not to use the foyer or parking lot. The safest place is the elevator or janitor's closet.

If the block is four floors or less, the best place for a Warp Room is the men's room or the stairwell.

If you live in a one storey house, you're screwed. **[7]**

* * *

><p><strong>Action After Warnings<strong>

A Warning may come quite unexpectedly.

We will now tell you what to do when you are at home, and then we will explain what to do when you are out of doors.

First, if you are at home. When the Fiddley Thing Warning sounds, take cover at once. Read Twilight, and see if it improves when reality is changed.

Now, if you are out of doors, take cover at once when you hear the Fiddley Thing sound. If you are out of *_radio__static*_

_Hehehahahahaha…I have the power of God…_

* * *

><p><strong>[1]<strong> No, I did not make that up. They actually use that grammar in the video.

**[2]**At this point, the bomb drops.

**[3]** Most of last year's one was making fun of the Warning sirens, so we'll skip that section this year.

**[4]** If you're out of doors, you should pop down to Bunnings and get some more.

**[5]** Yeah, because that will help _so_ much.

**[6]** Which means that Holborn Station at peak hour is the best place to be.

**[7]**Yeah, that's basically what the real thing says.

* * *

><p>Remember, writing challenge entries are due on November 10. I can extend the deadline if you want, though.<p> 


	29. 29 10 11: The End Is Nigh

In which the End is Nigh.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Have I ever told you that _you_ are awesome? :P Thanks for reading!

**Dimentio713:** Chapter 1, Chapter 7, Chapter 15 and Chapter 20. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** As long as you enjoyed it, I'm content. :) Thanks for the review!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Gotcha. Good luck with your Midterms! :D Thanks very much.

* * *

><p><strong>2910/11 – The End Is Nigh**

There was a plume of green light, and Linkara appeared in the Treedome.

Hurriedly checking to make sure everything was the same as always, he stormed through the door of the tree trunk.

"Is anyone home?" he called.

There was the sound of footsteps, and Sam Manson entered the living room.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"…Sam Manson?" quizzed Linkara, tilting his head, "Where's Sandy?"

Sam grinned, and pulled a black calculator out of her pocket. She pressed the button, and all of a sudden, Sandy was standing in from of him.

Linkara blinked.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked.

"I'm testin' it," replied Sandy, looking over the Fiddley Thing Mk. II, "This thing's pretty darn powerful – I mean, we even managed to turn the world into soy beans!"

"…okay, I _don__'__t_ wanna know," nodded Linkara, "Look, is Spongebob here? I need your help…"

* * *

><p>Linkara had returned, Spongebob and Sandy in tow. They had arrived at Spoony's house, and had gathered with the others in the living room.<p>

'The others' were a motley bunch. Spoony was sitting on a computer chair, looking anxious at the disruption of his life. Zim and Gaz were on opposite sides of the couch – a very nervous looking Danny Fenton perched between them. Timmy was standing, impatiently tapping his foot, and Tucker just looked like he'd been dragged out of bed too early.

Linkara began to pace in front of the group.

"Gentlemen, ladies," he began, "I don't need to tell you that the situation is bad. Richtofen has the Fiddley Thing. He can alter reality at his will."

"Then why hasn't he?" asked Danny.

"I think he's deferring to someone," replied Linkara, "Someone who wants the Mk. II Thing as well. And…"

There was a dramatic pause.

"…the Mk. III."

"The _what?_" exclaimed Spoony, "He made _three_of them? How did I not know that?"

"The Mk. III Fiddley Thing was built after Insano lost the Mk. II to Sandy," explained Linkara, "He had me hide it before Richtofen killed him. I gave it to a Secret Keeper."

"Secret Keeper?" mused Zim, "What's that?"

"Someone who keeps a secret, duh," replied Timmy, dryly.

"Jack Kelso," nodded Linkara, "He was the safest bet. He lives…lived in a parallel dimension, back in 1940s LA. Someone working with Richtofen killed him, but he didn't get the Mk. III."

"So who's got it now?" asked Sandy.

"The Homicide Office at the LAPD," replied Linkara, "It was looked at by Ray Pinker before being handed to a detective for safe-keeping. We have to get to it before Richtofen does!"

"Why?" asked Gaz, "How is this _my_ problem?"

"With the power of three Fiddley Things, the entire multiverse could be destroyed!" exclaimed Linkara.

Gaz raised an eyebrow.

"Including you," added Linkara.

"Fine," Gaz sighed.

"Alright then," nodded Linkara, "We gotta get to Central Police Station, LA, 1947. Harvey let me borrow a car, so…"

* * *

><p>"…we look like assholes," sighed Spoony.<p>

The group were now driving the streets of Los Angeles in a green minivan that resembled a grub. Most of them were packed into the back, with Linkara and Sandy in the front.

"Shut up, Spoony," snapped Linkara, "This is all we got."

He slowed the van as he neared Central Police Station.

His jaw dropped.

"…we're too late," he gasped.

All around Central, strewn over the streets and sidewalks, were dead bodies.

"What…what happened?" breathed Tucker.

"The Fiddley Thing has a darker side to it," growled Linkara, "Richtofen used it to…let's get inside."

Linkara hastily parked the van and they climbed out.

Central was eerily silent. Blue uniformed bodies were scattered over the floors, or slumped over desks. Linkara hurriedly led the group upstairs, heading for the Briefing Room. They entered, finding it…completely empty.

"…what?" exclaimed Danny, "Shouldn't there at least be bodies here?"

"Looking for zomethik, Herr Linkara?"

The group turned. Dr. Richtofen was standing in the door, flanked by two angry-looking men in black uniforms. Both men aimed submachine guns at the group, while Richtofen simply held both arms up.

In his left hand was the Fiddley Thing. In his right was a red mobile phone-like device with a touch screen.

"The Mk. III," realised Linkara, horrified.

"Ja, very gut, mein friend," sneered Richtofen, "And I must thank you. You've brought _all__your__little__friends_ as sacrificial lambs!"

He pocketed both Fiddley Things.

"But you have fulfilled your purpose," he shrugged, "Soldiers…_kill__him._"

The soldiers fired.

For three seconds that seemed to be an age, Linkara was knocked backwards by gunfire, stumbling backwards until he collided with a window. With an almighty crash, he fell through the glass and out of sight.

"That's my _friend_ you sick fu…" Spoony began to scream.

There was a loud bang, and Spoony fell with a hole in his head.

A man in an expensive looking suit and fedora had just entered the room, a smocking pistol in his hand. The group looked at him with horror.

"Ah, Roy Earle, I was wondering when you'd join ze fun," said Richtofen.

"Got held up," replied Roy, coolly, "Phelps got us worked out – decided he wanted to play the hero. I…detained him."

"Ser gut," Richtofen grinned wolfishly, "Now, we can detain these schweinhunt!"

"Not so fast," growled Sandy, "Spongebob, give me the Mk. II…"

"_Nein!_" bellowed Richtofen, as Spongebob pulled the Fiddley Thing Mk. II from his pocket, "Stop him!"

Roy and the soldiers aimed their weapons.

Spongebob tossed the Mk. II to Sandy.

Sandy reached to grab it, but it bounced off her hand.

Tucker leapt out to grab it.

A soldier fired, and Tucker went down, clutching his arm.

The Fiddley Thing Mk. II bounced to a stop at Roy's feet.

Then there was a deafening silence.

* * *

><p>To describe the multiverse would be like describing the night sky. Each universe was a vibrant light against unfathomable darkness. The lights stretched for eons in all directions.<p>

Then, all at once, every single light began to fade. Over about ten seconds, they grew dimmer and dimmer, until all ceased to exist. Even the darkness seemed to fade, until…

There was nothing.

* * *

><p>This Might Be Bad.<p>

Also, yes, I did take influences from Doctor Who with that ending! XD


	30. 30 10 11: Um

...D:

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** ...OH GOD DAMN FORMATTING I KEEL YOU AAARRRGGHH Anyway, thanks for reading.

**aslan333:** Yup.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** It probably did. :\ Thanks for reviewing!

**Dimentio713:** Yes. Yes we are. Thanks for the review.

* * *

><p><strong>3010/11 – Um…**

I sat at my computer, glancing at the screen. Every so often, I would blink and tilt my head. This could be observed for several seconds, until I finally looked at you. Yes, you.

"Hi guys," I said, "This is very embarrassing, but I've actually got no idea for a comedy oneshot for the ending story arc. I probably should have planned it out earlier, so…yes, sorry, my fault."

"However," I continued, "All is not lost! In order to keep up my quota of one fic a day, I have decided to force Squidward to riff Thirty Hs while floating in the endless void. Enjoy!"

I began to laugh evilly.

* * *

><p><em>Thirty Hs – by Secondpillow<em>

**NO! NO! OPEN THE DOOR! LET ME OUT! NOOOO!**

Dobby relished his groinsaw's roar as he withdrew the flesh-choked blade from the astronaut's ruined skull. **Yep. ****We ****are ****all ****going ****to ****suffer.** He turned to Harry, thrusting his bloody, retina-covered pelvis with elfin fervor. **There****'****s**** a ****Rick ****Astley ****joke ****here ****but**** I ****have ****more ****taste ****then**** that.**

"How does Ronnie Ron taste, master?" **He **_**ate **_**RON? ****Eew!**

Harry spat out an eyeball. "Like some kid with eyes." **No ****really?**

Dobby ducked an astronaut's poison barbed fist,**Why**** do**** the ****astronauts ****have ****poison ****barbed**** fists?** digging his groinsaw into the beast's abdomen and letting the spray of viscera wash over his elfin space armor. **What**** is**** this? ****Elfhammer ****40k?** The skulls' eye sockets on his shoulders grew brilliant with an infernal cast and vomited a bolt of light through an astronaut; he was thrown back against the deathwall, his flesh boiling in another dimension. **What.**

Harry slapped Dobby, who giggled.

Harry reminded himself to kill himself later. **Okay,**** that****'****s****… ****kinda**** funny.**

"Master, look out!"

Dobby's groinsaw screamed as it flew off the armor, rocketing through the air like an early dream of mankind. **What ****the ****heck ****does ****that ****even ****mean?** It flew through three astronauts who dropped their hellspears as the saw cut a hole in the ground beneath them so they fell to hell **Must**** be**** a ****good**** saw.** and the demonic spheres rape them to this day, boys and girls. **Eew,**** that ****was ****uncalled ****for, ****Dobby.**

"Now, Dobby."

Dobby knelt before his master.

Harry withdrew his guitar, F**kslayer, from a dimension where all screamed for naught. **You****'****ve ****gotta ****admit, ****he****'****s ****got ****vocabulary ****at ****least.**

Wrought from the silver heart of heaven's false promise, laced with vessels that pulsed with angel's menstrual blood, hewn from the horns of Satan's generals, **and ****we****'****ve**** just ****annoyed**** religious**** people.**** Sorry.** it laughed as it was set loose, a laugh that only Harry could hear, but no one could share. **Why**** would ****they ****want ****to**** hear **_**that?**_

Harry swung the guitar through Dobby's chicken neck. He took the head of his fallen dwarfslave and tore open his stomach, stuffing the head inside. **Dear**** Neptune!**** That****'****s**_** DISGUSTING!**_ Harry vomited steam and summoned a great meteor from space to smash into Hogwarts and kill everyone there, for no reason at all. **Our**** hero, ****everyone.** A vision then appeared. It was Dumbledore, entombed in his cursed mummy armor, calling Harry from his Moonbase which wasn't on a moon. **Then**** why ****is ****it ****called ****a ****moonbase?**

"Harry, you must rock the f**k out." **Must**** not ****be ****awed, ****must ****not ****be**** awed, ****must ****not ****be ****awed****…**

Harry channeled his rage through F**kslayer. The angel blood boiled as he summoned the great meteor, swathed with the blood of the tiny f**klings at Hogwarts, leapt onto it, and flew into space. **It****'****s**** like ****some ****kind ****of ****really ****demented ****Nyan ****Cat.** He encased the entire meteor in a wreath of holy f**kfire **holy****what?** and flew through Mercury, killing the f**k out of it. Then he sent Mercury's carcass into Venus, killing the f**k out of it and making every v****a in the galaxy explode **WHAT?**, and inside every v****a a booby sang of mortal life's fleeting precipice. **What**** the ****heck ****is ****this ****guy ****on?**

Harry then did fly his meteor through space, punching astral vampires **astral ****vampires?** in half with his fists encased in f**kfire and throwing their ruined heads into the past where they bit cavemen on mars so that history changed and now there are vampire cavemen on mars. **WUT** Harry received another vision from Frumblegore **who?**, who was having tea and chumpits **what****'****s**** a**** chumpet?** with the president of Pangea.

"Care to have tea, Harry?"

"You know how I hate chumpits." **…****aaaand ****I****'****m ****done.**

* * *

><p>Those of you who wnat clues for the big bad? He's the kind of guy who writes this stuff.<p>

See you tomorrow for the last oneshot!


	31. 31 10 11: The Fate of Everything

Well, there was no way I could give everyone a big part in this one. Here's hoping this is enough.

Review replies;

**OwlheadAthena:** Yes, there were a great many Fs in that story, were there not? :P Thanks for reading!

**Majora713:** Aye, but it's so horrible it's awesome. :] Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** You and me both, my friend. Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>3110/11 – The Fate of Everything**

The small castle floated in an abyss of complete and total blackness, the one thing left in the entire multiverse.

Inside the keep, it was nearly totally deserted – save for the group, their captors, three handcuffed detectives (Phelps, Biggs and Bekowsky) and a cloaked individual. Tucker was clutching his bandaged arm, and the rest of the group were held down by a guard each.

"You complete _moron!_" snarled the cloaked figure, his voice distorted, "How did you manage to _destroy_ the _entire__ multiverse?_"

"Hey," shrugged Roy, glancing at the Mk. II in his hands, "I'm a Vice Cop, not a scientist. Anyway, I didn't destroy the _whole_ thing; we've still got the keep, right?"

The cloaked figure harrumphed.

"You're just lucky I intended to reboot the multiverse anyway," he snarled, "Richtofen! Hand me the Fiddley Thing."

"Aww," moaned Richtofen, "But I never got to use it…"

He dejectedly handed the Fiddley Thing to the cloaked figure.

The cloaked figure began to laugh.

"At last," he sneered, "I have the power of the gods in my hands."

He turned to look at Danny. The half-ghost's eyes widened.

"No…you can't be…"

"Can't I?"

The figure took off his cloak, and Dan Phantom leered at his younger self.

"You seem to have forgotten," he sniffed, "I'm _inevitable._"

He turned around and clapped twice.

"Now, Vicky, bring in our guest!"

The door to the keep opened. Vicky strode in, dragging a familiar figure.

The whole group (and Richtofen) gasped.

"_Dr. Insano?"_

"Oh, das isn't fair, I killed him!" moaned Richtofen.

"You killed a double, you ignoramus!" retorted Insano, jumped to his feet and gesturing angrily at Richtofen, "I'm a mad scientist – it's not like cloning myself is anything new these days!"

Dan rolled his eyes.

"I just wanted you to be here," he sneered, "To see your invention make me into a god…"

He held up the Fiddley Thing and pressed the button.

There was the sound of canned laughter. Confused, Dan looked at the Fiddley Thing, looking for the source of the noise.

Then there was another laugh. Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on Insano.

"Oh really?" he chuckled, "Do you think I'd _really_ just leave the Fiddley Thing with a random clone? You never had it from the beginning…"

He reached into his lab coat and pulled out the real Fiddley Thing, grinning triumphantly.

At that moment, Sandy broke out of Roy's grip and landed a kick into his stomach. Winded, Roy lost his hold of the Fiddley Thing Mk. II, and it landed in Sandy's hands.

Roaring animalistic, Dan lunged towards Richtofen and tore the Fiddley Thing Mk. III from his grip, taking it in his hands.

There was a long silence.

"Looks like we have a standoff," noted Dan.

"Standoff?" snapped Sandy, "This is two against one!"

"…and what makes you think Insano won't just try to take over the multiverse himself?" demanded Dan.

"…hey," grinned Insano, "That's a good idea!"

"Aw, crud," groaned Timmy, face palming.

"Alright," snarled Sandy, "Looks like we gettin' ourselves into a ruckus here. Let's finish this."

"Gladly," sneered Dan, "Richtofen, Earle, Vicky, you're with me."

"Zim, Spongebob…that feller in the grey suit," called Sandy.

"Phelps," nodded Phelps.

"Yeah," nodded Sandy, "With me."

"Hey!" snapped Danny, "He's my enemy! You guys don't even…"

"Danny, Tucker needs you right now," reminded Spongebob, pointing to his injured friend, "You can't just abandon him."

Danny looked at Tucker, and sighed.

"…if he kills you, I'll never forgive…"

"He _won__'__t_, wormbaby!" snapped Zim, "We're better then that! Now get out of here!"

Danny hesitated. Reluctantly, he hoisted Tucker onto his shoulder and made for the nearest door. The rest of the group followed, leaving four aside, plus Insano.

"Alright, chums," sneered Insano, "Let's do this!"

Dan snarled, and pressed a button on his Fiddley Thing.

All of a sudden, they were on a platform, hanging over a deep pit with no end in sight. Everything looked metallic and shiny – and they were all holding lightsabers.

"Oh, what the fu-" began Insano.

Dan responded by lunging at him, preparing a stab.

Not far away, Zim and Vicky squared off, both holding their lightsabers. Vicky's was red – Zim's was purple.

"So," sneered Vicky, "What's a green midget gonna do to stop us?"

"Nobody calls the mighty _Zim_ a midget!" thundered Zim, lunging at Vicky.

Zim thrust the sabre down from above his head, but Vicky rolled out of the way. Vicky retaliated by swinging at Zim's legs, but Zim dodged. He back-flipped away from Vicky, and bared his sabre at the babysitter.

Vicky roared, and ran at the Irken invader. Their sabres clashed together at rapid pace, time and time again with neither gaining the upper hand.

Then Zim kicked Vicky in the centre mass, sending her flying backwards. The babysitter crashed into the rail on the side of the platform.

Zim wasted no time rushing the winded babysitter, jumping into the air and launching a downward slash. He missed by inches, but cut the rail.

The rail slid off, and Vicky fell backwards. She screamed as she fell into the dark abyss.

Zim stood over the side of the platform and looked down.

"You are made of stupid, Earth fool!" he called.

Then the world changed again.

They were now standing on a desert airstrip, a plane sitting behind them. The plane was warming up, and the propellers were spinning. All weapons were gone.

Roy walked up to Phelps, cracking his knuckles.

"So, Phelps!" he sneered, "You always were the golden boy, the by-the-book cop. Pathetic!"

"I'm a better man then you are," retorted Phelps, "Although at his point – that isn't very hard."

"Let's finish this, _partner_," snarled Phelps.

The two men began to trade blows. Roy was fist of the offensive, but Phelps managed to block or dodge most of his hits. Only the last made contact with his face, knocking him to the group.

Phelps growled, and climbed to his feet. He threw a punch at Roy, but the Vice Cop grabbed his arm and booted him in the kneecap. Phelps fell again.

Roy grinned, and began to kick Phelps repeatedly. Over and over again, he booted the downed detective…never noticing the plane behind him beginning to move.

"Any last words, Cole?" demanded Roy.

Phelps coughed.

"Yeah," he replied, "You might wanna look behind you."

Roy turned around, just a second before the propeller slammed into his face.

Phelps shut his eyes. He heard the scream. When he opened his eyes, he could see Roy's body on the ground, his face shredded.

"It had to be done, Roy," sighed Phelps, climbing to his feet.

Once again, the world changed.

Now they were in a cave, swords drawn. Behind them was a fountain, and the whole area was overgrown and a little submerged.

Richtofen advanced on Spongebob, his face a twisted snarl.

"Sword-fighting will be fun," he sneered, "More _blood!_"

He swung at Spongebob, who ducked under the blow. Terrified, Spongebob tried to crawl away from the mad Nazi doctor, who swung wildly in his direction.

"Come on, schweinhunt!" he bellowed, "I can't hear your _screams_ if I don't hit you!"

"Stay away from me!" screamed Spongebob, rolling away from a downward stab.

"Never!" thundered Richtofen, "I will _drain __your__ blood!__ AHAHAHAHAHAHA!_"

He swung viciously towards Spongebob again. Spongebob rolled away, and felt through his pockets for something that could help him.

He pulled out his bubble wand.

"A bubble wand?" sneered Richtofen, "Oh, how _precious!_ I'll take it when I kill you…"

Desperately, Spongebob blew into the wand. A volley of bubbles flew into Richtofen's eyes, blinding the doctor.

He gave a scream of pain, and stumbled towards the fountain. He fell face-first into the waters.

Then, in about ten seconds, he decomposed into a skeleton.

Spongebob blinked, mouth agape. He stared at the bubble wand.

"…I will never doubt you again," he told it.

The world changed again. Now, they were back in the keep.

Dan, Sandy and Insano were standing about three metres apart, gasping for air. They had all taken a severe beating by this point – they were bruised, bloodied and exhausted.

"Let's finish this," growled Dan.

"For science," snarled Insano.

What happened next could only be described as a blue. The three fighters, enhanced by their devices, could hardly be seen. They could be heard, however, and the crashed of their conflict surpassed even the most violent and deadly struggles ever recorded.

As they fought, the world – nay, the _multiverse_ outside shifted. All across the dark abyss, lights began to appear, softly at first, then brighter and brighter. As far as the eye could see, and even farther, these lights began to shine with all the splendour of a thousand suns.

The multiverse was coming back to life.

Around them, the keep dissipated, changing into the form of a storm-racked Westminster Bridge. The eye of the storm clouds was situated over London's famous clock-tower, as the fighters flew through the air and into the tower itself.

At last, they stopped fighting again, falling to their knees next to the bell known as Big Ben.

The group had also moved here, and they were not alone. Linkara and Spoony had appeared among them. Everyone glanced at the fighters, looking for a sign of a winner.

At last, one of them stirred.

Sandy climbed exhaustedly to her feet. Spongebob ran over to give his wounded friend support, and they walked over to the group.

"I won," breathed Sandy, holding up the three Fiddley Things in her hand.

She began to glow, and Spongebob jumped, startled.

"What…" he began.

"The full power of three Fiddley Things," replied Linkara, solemnly, "No mortal could hold such power. She's…ascending."

There was a cry of pain, and Sandy fell to her knees.

"No," breathed Spongebob, "She can't…_she__ can__'__t!_"

"She won't."

Danny walked up, and grabbed Sandy's hand. Some of the glowing spread to his hand. Spongebob looked at the hand he'd grabbed Sandy with, and saw that it was also beginning to shine.

"Not without us," finished Danny.

The group looked at each other.

Linkara stepped up, and put a hand on Sandy's shoulder. One by one, the others joined in, until all except Zim, Gaz and the detectives had joined in an embrace.

"Should we join in?" asked Bekowsky, confused.

"Leave them be," replied Biggs, "This isn't our place."

The light grew brighter and brighter, until the light was too blinding to look at.

Then it was gone, and so were they.

* * *

><p>No-one could ever explain what happened that day.<p>

Phelps, Biggs and Bekowsky never told a soul, and with the LAPD deep in a corruption scandal unvielded by the deaths of Monroe and Kelso, they were quickly forgotten by the press.

Zim and Gaz returned home, and went back to being social pariahs. While Dib was no longer a problem for Zim, he found he hadn't the will to keep conquering without his enemy.

Those in London at the time basically decided that the light was some sort of electrical fault. No one ever connected the following disappearences of Sam Manson, Iron Liz and Patrick Star (among others) to the incident.

As for the group - they were never seen again...

* * *

><p>This world is more then it seems.<p>

"_It's that time of year again!" I grinned, "For the whole month of October, I'll be putting up one oneshot a day until the day of Halloween._

For every fairytale monster…

"_Err, no," replied the being, "A genie grants wishes and lives in a lamp. I'm the Underworld King and I was imprisoned in a bottle. We clear on that?"_

…there are a hundred real ones.

_On the highest throne, right at the top of the pile, was Hitler._

People like Dan, with no restraints…

"_So, you want me to fix 'em up?" asked Sandy._

"_No, of course not," replied Insano, "I want you to reset the Fiddley Thing. I liked the old setting better. It had more robots."_

…and no morals.

_At the end of the old platform stands an old shack, belonging to the long dead station master. Inside it, an old peddler still runs his snake-oil business, selling his dangerous wares to any travellers who may pass by._

How do you live with such people? Simple, you just go on with your lives.

""_It's sort of an inverse Russian Roulette," replied Jimmy, "I've got six vials. Five of them are potions, one of them is dyed water. We don't know which one is which – the winner is the one who picks the water."_

Sometimes, your endeavours will end in failure.

_Tensions are high. AJ's openly questioning Jimmy's leadership, and Jimmy doesn't even seem to know where we are. He just says that we'll get our bearings eventually._

Sometimes, they're simply bizarre.

_Have you ever messed with one of those silly 12-character memes and gotten a "what if character X got character Y pregnant?" question, and then wondered what would have happened if that child was actually born?_

_The intrepid weirdos of a certain forum did._

"…_this is gonna suck," groaned Squidward._

…and sometimes, they're completely misguided.

_In response to DP's allegations of my own 'treachery', I would like to add that the issue between myself the subject is entirely personal, and that I pose no threat to humanity._

But as long as you have the tenacity to try, you have hope as a species.

"_Okay, one down, three to go," he breathed, wiping his forehead, "Now I just need to find the others. Then I can do this ritual thing, and then I'll return everything."_

Sometimes, you're bigoted.

"_Fifth columnists," spat Roy, waving his arms at the cells, "I suppose you're all happy about this, aren't you? Your Mechan friends'll take over the country, and then you can all join hands with the Jews and Negros and all that s**t."_

Sometimes, you're unintelligent.

_1 night in Toonmark Prince, Prince GIR was hanging around in a castle wen his best friend Ash and two other guise came in._

Sometimes, you're cruel.

"_I love Mire," he sneered, "I caused a temporal flux. "You're frozen in time for, say…" he looked at his watch, "The next eternity, give or take."_

Sometimes, you're fantastically nutty.

_On the Metropolitan,  
>Dib got on at Barbican,<br>At Wembley Park he claimed to see,  
>A Big Foot manned CCTV.<em>

Sometimes, you're gullible.

"…_I think I need to go in there," breathed Valerie._

Sometimes, you're petty.

_Turner,__that__'__s__two-hundred__and_one_words.__See__me__after__class._

_**F**_

That's what makes you human.

_He had grown up in villages like this – they all had. In each soldier, the torn and mangled bodies of the unfortunate villagers were replaced by those of their friends and families. This was too real – even in the dark days of the Civil War, no-one had seen anything so...one could not describe it._

Never forget that you're human.

_There was a puff of smoke, and a red-eyed Dani appeared. She was wearing a witch's robe and hat, and her skin was green. She held a crooked wand in her right hand, and a broom under her left arm._

"_You're too much of a coward to go in there, aren't you?" she snarled, nastily._

You'll stand up to your oppressors.

_Many of the soldiers stationed in lands taken from Mongolia and Korea had grown to oppose this rule, forming the 'British Soldiers Against Racial Discrimination' group. Timmy, now a lieutenant, was a member of this group, and this inevitably attracted the attention of military authorities._

You can think, you can feel emotions.

"_Ah, salutations! One for Darwin!"_

_The ex-bus driver glanced at his new, spiral-goggled passenger, and he cried._

You know your limits.

_We found another body this morning, a boy named James Isaac Neutron. He's…not even recognisable as a god-damn corpse. It's just…I don't even want to describe it._

_Just…I can't do this anymore._

You know the feeling of friendship and love.

_When I'm feeling pretty sad,  
>I think about the luck I had,<br>To make the friends that make me glad,  
>And everything okay.<em>

Sometimes, of course, you're too bold for your own good.

_The man squeezed the trigger._

_Danny Fenton's head snapped back as he was knocked of his feet. A split second later, the Governor clutched his heart and fell face-first to the ground. The crowd began to scream and panic._

But sometimes, that boldness can be used for good, for art and culture.

_It should have been a blue moon. Then you could have Frank Sinatra._

You're all, ultimately, human.

_"Your son is an invalid," snapped Hibbert, "You'd have known this if you'd answered my calls earlier."_

_Membrane fell back onto a chair, sweating._

But of course, you all heard this last year.

_Spongebob sighed._

_"Timmy," he replied, "Can we just go to the store tomorrow and buy some decorations? This place kinda freaks me out."_

You know what you have to do.

"_I'm not telling you anything," he snarled, "I'm not afraid."_

I'm just a reminder, really.

_When you hear this sound, you can leave your cover, but be sure to practice your goose-stepping._

Remember what I said.

"…_we look like assholes," sighed Spoony._

_The group were now driving the streets of Los Angeles in a green minivan that resembled a grub. Most of them were packed into the back, with Linkara and Sandy in the front._

Be human.

_I finally looked at you. Yes, you._

Be _magnificent._

Welcome home, my friends.

**The End.**

* * *

><p>I stared at my computer, completely befuddled.<p>

"What the _hell_ did I just _write?_" I exclaimed.

I shook my head, and looked at the camera.

"Well, thanks again, everyone," I grinned, "Another Halloween Unspectacular is finished, ones and for all as our good friend squirrelking would say. Perhaps I'll do this again next year, but for now, I'd like to thank you all for all of your support."

I looked back at the screen.

"Oh, and what was that ending?" I mused, "Well…I'll leave it up to you. Suffice to say, it probably won't be 'canon' for next year's Unspectacular, sort of like how I ignored the death of Dib last year."

"Now," I finished, "We've finally done, so…"

A familiar tune began to play, and I grinned.

"Let's sing our way into November!"

ME: Fanfiction, Dead King,

TUCKER: Wax Museum, Fiddley Thing,

SAM: Peddlers, Potion Game,

ELIZA: Africa and Messed-Up Thing,

MADDIE: Letters and Thievery,

LANCER: Roy Earle and Parody,

THIRD KIND: Nazi scare, Leicester Square,

VALERIE: Trippy green light time!

ALL (yes, that includes you): _We __didn__'__t __start __October,  
>It<em>_'__s__ some__ science __glee,  
>And<em>_ we __don__'__t __have __degrees,  
>We<em>_ didn__'__t__ start__ October,  
>But <em>_one__ thing __can __be __told,  
>Because<em>_ it__'__s__ all__ E3__'__s__ fault._

CROCKER: Two hundred words or less,

DANNY: Southern werewolf murder fest,

TIMMY: Angry and mutated nerds,

DANI: Statues made by complete-

LANCER: _AHEM._

INSANO: Insano's back, Freddy strikes,

CARTOONATIC: Poems and Freakshow snipes,

SQUIDWARD: SquidRiffs once again,

DIB: Ghosts don't call Dib a friend,

SPONGEBOB: Vanquished King, Richtofen,

ZIM'SMOSTLOYALSERVANT: Protect and Survive Again,

SANDY: End of race, Thirty H,

DAN: …and also there's a god fight!

ALL: __We __didn__'__t __start __October,  
>It<em>_'__s__ some__ science __glee,  
>And<em>_ we __don__'__t __have __degrees,  
>We<em>_ didn__'__t__ start__ October,  
>But <em>_one__ thing __can __be __told,  
>Because<em>_ it__'__s__ all__ E3__'__s__ fault.__

ALL: __We __didn__'__t __start __October,  
>It<em>_'__s__ some__ science __glee,  
>And<em>_ we __don__'__t __have __degrees,  
>We<em>_ didn__'__t__ start__ October,  
>But <em>_one__ thing __can __be __told,  
>Because<em>_ it__'__s__ all__ E3__'__s__ fault.__

"Happy Halloween, everyone!" we all yelled.

"_SHUT__ UP!_" yelled my neighbours.

* * *

><p>FINAL STATISTICS:<p>

31 Chapters.

104 Pages.

1,697 Hits.

5 Faves.

3 Alerts.

29,302 Words.

139,884 Characters (without spaces).

Approx. 93 Hours of Work.

One Exhuasted Author.


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